…and the question rises; my heart sinks
Into the deep blue in his eyes
Our song hums in the background;
He touches my left hand…question
My chest stirs but love hasn’t filled the hairline fractures
Or smoothed the ragged edges
Is love a possibility? The hands of the clock
Continue to circle
I have no answers, no quick witty come-back
…or reciprocated touch
He wears his emotions on his sleeve, as I do
Bleeding hearts there is no second guessing
Perspective? Mirror mirror on the wall
His words too familiar, a reflective view

I recall asking the same question, the answer falling flat
Leaving me with one more unnoticeable tiny crack
Mid-way between the head and heart
My rib-cage aches with awareness
Knowing full well what the future does not hold

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