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Poem

Where our lives intersect there is no sunshine

It seems we are rooted in coldness.
How we nourish ourselves is our mystery.
On the outside we look healthy, even beautiful,
Others envy what they think we have—vibrant love.

But through our veins runs the ice water of our darkest winter.
Our outer shells are just that—shells
Golden in appearance to others who do not know us;
But still,  just shells.

We feel nothing without touching each other.
When we do touch, which isn’t often, 
We brush up against each other clandestinely
And never notice that together we are still a brighter color.

We stand upright to guard against the sympathies of others.
If we look down, we’ll reveal our inner hurt and how we often hurt each other.
Our limbs reach for the sky seeking warmth from the sun;
Or are we reaching for each other without knowing it?

There is warming sunshine kissing our faces,
Though we never kiss back, too afraid of reminding us of the past.
We grew to become good friends—then lovers
Weren’t we the perfect couple?

We spread our arms pretending to caress each other
But each time we touch we know that the color of our love is only skin deep
We share a secret and promised not to tell
The secret of a failed romance.

That is why my head hangs lower these days
That is why my tears roll like dew from my face
That is why when I touch your soft petals, I weep.
Because where our lives intersect there is no sunshine.

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