I’ve traced your features
with my fingertips
a thousand times
unfelt –
I know each line and fold,
each angle, curve
as were they part
of myself –
And yet you stand there
untouchable and free
not knowing a thing
about me –
My fingers feeling things they never felt –
My jealous eyes observing her hand
upon that hand I held but never held –
I’ve traced your features
in my heart a thousand
lonely times
apart –
My fingers hanging limp and useless by my side –
But I’ve etched you in my heart
like a secret work of art –