The first time I watched you read this two sentence story, with your eyes focused and your lips pursed in concentration, anticipating the twist at the end… I restrained myself, because I knew you were the one for me; and I chose not to approach you when you were struggling thru the middle of this story, wanting desperately for the ending to be fantastic: and I saw the makings of a gratified look spread across your face when you continued on to the end of the story to discover that you and I come together, finally… and that the love we have has always been, as I have idolizing from afar—your brilliance, the way you write, and that face you make when you’re scared. I have stood and waited many nights just to catch a glimpse of you… but, again, I did not approach… each time thinking how lovely it would be to caress your shoulder… to touch your hair… to kiss lightly your neck… if only once.
If Only Once,