One hug.
One touch.
A 'I've missed you' is enough.
A look, a glance, a look, a squeeze.
A 'I wanted you here today'
arrived to break me into pieces.
To admit that I'm vulnerable,
that it hurts when I'm near you because I think.
I think I'll be away from you,
longer than I've been around you.
They ask me about you.
'I don't know,' I reply, as if you were a stranger.
It's like being a stranger.
You're a stranger to me.
I only need one look at you to know you.
But they don't know it
Because we are unknown.
Strangers who know each other,
that we want each other,
that we want each other,
but we never said anything,
that I never said 'me too'
and I'm in pain.
Every day.