His existence introduced me to love first

But Eros is with Psyche, 

Not a girl who’s young enough to miss her first kiss.

He walks on a carpet of moss. Like him, it is

Older than me, wiser than me, steadier than me

But I

Floats on clouds. I am

Younger than him, naïver than him, flightier than him

I expect to see his silhouette each time I close my eyes

And I pray to feel his fingertips with each dawn

But I know he doesn’t feel the same.

He’s my secret. I hide the thought of him to my chest

Far from anyone’s prying eyes.

He’s a guilty pleasure, my inner child’s stolen cookie

But the child doesn’t know how bad it is, like I refuse to see

How the possibility of ‘we’ would ruin me.

I grasp this dream like a drowning man does to air  

The man begs for a ship to save him, but these feelings will never abandon me

Whatever love I can give him, he’s already seen before. And it’s hopeless, 

Because he has a lover.

But still, I wish that lover was me.