Love Without Witnesses

I loved you in ways that never needed proof,

in the quiet refill of your water glass,

in saving the last seat on the bus

without announcing it was for you.

You thought I was just polite.

Maybe I was. Maybe that was the disguise.

I learned your tired-face smile,

the one you wore when you said you were fine

And your keys sounded heavier than usual.

When you moved apartments,

I labeled your boxes in neat black ink

and swallowed the sentence

That said, stay, please stay.

Years later I still buy that mint tea

You hated but drank because I liked it,

and it tastes like a small, harmless lie.

I never told you the night you fell asleep

on my couch in your socks,

I felt my heart do that stupid hopeful thing

like a dog waiting at the door.

You will never know how carefully

I kept loving you out of sight,

as if love could be safe

If no one saw it trembling.