Only
I only thought of you a few times today,
which considering my history so far this year,
is quite the accomplishment.
Only six or seven times did your smile
wend its way into my subconscious.
Only eight or nine did I pause to sigh,
remembering the oh-so-soft-and-gentle
touch of your gone-too-long-lips.
Only twice did I fail to respond
when someone called my name
in the room where I was lost in reverie.
Only slightly did my pulse quicken as
I recalled the tiny tremble in your hand
before you thought to pull it away.
Only one tear, lost and lonely,
found its wayward way to my waiting cheek
before being swatted away in annoyance
that it came to call at all.
If only you loved me, too.
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