The Hardest Part of Loving You

The love I have for you is a solitary kind of love.
It is there in the morning silence of the hallways as I walk past your door,
my eyes seeking you out quickly, furtively, so that you will not catch me.
I can feel it most of all in the moments when you are near,
when the right words won’t come out and my limbs shake like the cherry tree outside my window.
My love lives in the language that I can’t speak;
and sleeps inside customs and traditions that are different from my own.
My love exists despite the trials and tribulations
that we encounter because we are, after all, different people from different places
But beneath it all we are connected
By a common thread…a kindred spirit.
My love persists despite knowing that you will not risk this type of uncertainty.
This love was always meant to be homeless,
doomed to wander the hallways and the city streets,
In hopes of a chance encounter.

Still, the hardest part of loving you is knowing that I must let you go.

In Another Time

In another time I would have run to you freely. Perhaps, if you had met me when I was still young, still sure about my life and how to live it, things would have been different. Who knows what we could have been then. But, we must not dwell on lost possibilities for they are not real. I made mistakes with you, and perhaps you made mistakes with me, but all that matters is what is and not what could have been.  The reality is that you are not mine, and I am not yours and we shall remain separated by this insistent truth. You have moved on with your life and I shall move on with mine, and in time the few moments that we shared will have faded entirely. For nothing stands the test of time, not even love.