” I wanted to smell that burnt midnight again, I wanted to feel that wind. It was a secret wanting, like a song I couldn’t stop humming, or loving someone I could never have. ” -Janet Fitch

It’s easy to want what’s not real.
When all you ever know of someone
that beautiful sad longing
they let you see
How it makes their hearts hurt
to look at you.
They are not wise to your bad days
and You can lie
and say that
with them
that adoration
that pedestal you can never fall from
is tangible.
Because no one so consumed
with the contours of someone’s face
in-your-soul stare
could ever get distracted by the mortgage bill
or grow bored of your bed.
You imagine sunsets in the canyon
love-making on fallen leaves
that being someone’s
would mean never losing that look.
Like all they see is the best in you
like they wouldn’t forget how your skin saved them
like “time and a place” would never roll across their tongue
like their good morning’s and good night’s would be
like poetry
their cries like music
And those sentiments wouldn’t stiffen with age
or wither with disuse.
That someone you can never have
doesn’t need to be reminded that
being loved is not a chore.
Yet when our souls grow sick of our bodies
and our bodies grow sick of ourselves
it’s no surprise that passion wanes
that wanting begs to be treasured in its transience
that to hear that
twin soul melody
is as haunting
and painful
as loving someone
you can never have.