Two Poems on Longing


I loved you in all the distance

in the space between the miles

of words we never said.

I waited in the wings of every conversation.

Every flicker of that hopeful flame,

I devoured like a moth,

letting you devour me.

I lived on the love I carried

in my pocket of last resorts.

Only the grittiest guilts down there,

with my razorblades and cyanide

and every tear you never saw,

every scar I kept away from prying eyes

and wandering hands that I wanted

everywhere but where you could see

what loving you has done to me.


I love you

with the longing of all

the words we left unsaid,

with the fervor of the fire

we stoked with our pride,

the distance of the bridges

we built just to burn,

with all the finality

of the times we said goodbye.

The grip you hold on my heart –

as tight as my fingers were crossed

when I said

I didn’t.


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