old-doorway-380643_640

 

Wrote this in the Summer of 2015

I know the taste of your lips.
I know the touch of your fingers.
I know but don’t quite know how
Because in this life we have never touched.

I can feel the strength of your arms
And the willingness of your heart to touch mine.
I can hear the whisper of your voice
And the catch of your breath when you watch me laugh.

Somewhere, sometime we did touch
And the memory remains
Because we were important to each other.
We were willing to open,
Allowing the other inside carefully constructed barriers.

Now the habit of memory
Has us responding in the causal way
Of long time friends and lovers
And with unexpected, easy seriousness.

I have felt you pull back
Confused, in turmoil.
How can we be something this deep
And just remain friends?

I am clear in my heart with what is
And given the current conditions of your life
My choice is just that: friends.
Look to your heart and listen
For your journey, your path, your choice.

Now that you have stepped back
Until and unless your life shifts and
At the next crossroads you take a different turn,
All that will be between us in this life
Is the memory of a distant and now-fading past.

Be well my friend whatever your choice may be.
I care and I wish nothing but the best for you — always you will be friend.
And if sometime in life to come we meet again,
I will remember your touch and greet you with joy in my heart.
For you, I am always an open door.