A poem by Daisy Blue Rivers

Warm water runs over the edges of my sleeves and I let my thumb trace

The edge of my mug

Where your lips were 

Just last night.

I let it wash me away, to those 

early morning hours we had tea.

For only our eyes, 

A stolen breath

Tucked away.

In case us stretching time into the darkness would somehow make room for more,

For us to be more

For us to talk

… touch?

Haunted by inevitability, we try to fill the hourglass 

Past the invisible 

Line of no return, 

Beneath the sand.

Hoping this is the night the surface tension breaks so the ripple can spread.

Your forbidden eyes,

My stifled laugh,

Pray for release.

Reaching for the confirmation our heaving chests both know we cannot give.

But the raised hairs,

A breath let out 

And its quiet end.

They’re all here in my kitchen, gasping just to drown in this subtle moment.

What we cannot be.

But oh, what we are.