by Selia Qynn 1989

His hands so calloused,
But with softness underneath.
Love buried deep down.

His heart speaks to me.
A vulnerable pleasure.
Love laid bravely bare.

"This is who I am.
And this how I feel for you.
I must say it all."

He speaks of kisses -
A language I have known well.
Yet, I am silent.

He speaks of passion
And desire leaps in me;
A shocking, sharp ache.

He's with her. Not me.
And to wish any different,
Is only folly.

But, we should have met
Sometime before the road turned,
And he made his choice.

Now my turn to speak?
Frozen words shiver inside,
And I scare myself.

Fearful, I hold back
With feelings under control.
A peek, then close. Quick!

Hiding's a habit.
But a safe one to be sure...
AND appropriate.

"I'm sorry, my friend.
I don't care for you like that."
I hear myself say.

My heart is silent,
And like love in calloused hands,
It dreams of love's touch.