D.H

I want to tell you things

but I don't know where to find you.

You never knew that

moments with you

became the contour of existence,

that I never had anyone

who slowed down time

to hear all of me

the way you did.

There was a night with you

that hangs on my ceiling above where I sleep,

one of the only times

I have felt full -

You and I had walked through the night

talking of life

and of love,

almost exchanging the possibility

of eternity

in our glances alone.

We wandered through the park

where the moonlight

gave birth to our doubles.

Our silhouettes, unrestricted by the

inhibitions of living,

merged;

what did they say to each other

that we could not?

- Now, the swollen finger of lost time

taps on my shoulder

and I turn around

each time

hoping one day

it will be

you.

And if it never is

then the questions will continue to breathe -

Was it enough?

And why couldn't we have had more?