Opus

I think this is a love poem

Our shadows grew in the falling
light, we sat on the steps of the our
temple, as the believers around us
fashioned dreams out of air. You
explained Gibran to me. I was surprised,
I did not think that you could be
so gentle.

I wanted to touch your hand. I wanted
to tell you about all the lovers in my life,
about the man I met in the morning
who had such soft lips that I was
hoping he had someone to kiss them with.
About the enchanter with magic
in his voice, about how I almost wished
to die right then because I would die happy,
happy and madly in love with you.
But I didn't. Instead I asked
why we always thought of names in pairs.
You said it could be because people were
meant to be in love, and be remembered as
lovers, but you weren't sure. I was. And I
knew, that in no version of reality would our names
come together.

I didn't touch your hand,
and if I did love you for a moment, it was only
in words. The sky was silent after you left
and I wondered why I always wrote love poems
best, even when I have forgotten
what it is to be in love.