Am I lonely, in love, or both?
I’ve always been alone, but
not lonely until you.
I can feel the quiet getting
louder. The air starts to mix
and move in anticipation.
I’m trying to feel the memory
of your breath close to me, to
feel your lips a breath away.
It seems that our love like the
memory of your breath, so
uniquely fresh and sweet was
frozen in a vacuum of time until
now because I wasn’t able—in my
youth, abuse stole love from me.
My whole life I’ve been standing
alone in a crowd waiting for the
train that would never come.
But the power and sweetness of
your love is like the rush of a NYC
subway train barreling through.
An express train passing by that
doesn’t stop, shaking my solitude
letting me know that I have loved
and been loved after all.