When I meet you now
it feels like dried flowers
pressed between the pages of my past.
Jasmine buds with all the life
sucked out of them,
their fragrance long forgotten.
When our eyes meet now,
you seem to look through me
and I simply look at you.
We no longer look into each other
as we used to,
as we could.
We were too close,
too soon, too suddenly.
Too hungry,
each in our own way,
and too consumed
to even notice.
And now, when we meet
thirteen years weigh us down,
bind us apart with words unspoken.
So tight, so heavy
that I can no longer reach out
and touch you…
Not even with my eyes.
