Waiting for a train that
Seems never to arrive.

Talking for what
Seems like forever.

And no time at all.
Standing close yet

Feeling the distance.
Bodies almost touching.

Words dancing in our
Mouths, almost leaving

But never quite.
Our hands barely

Brushing.
Anticipation beating in my chest.

Almost something.
Never quite.

I thought this was a poem about love. At least, that’s what I intended when I wrote it. It seems more like a story about a crush that didn’t mean anywhere near as much as I made it out to.

I’ve always been a hopeless romantic. I watch romcoms and get nervous as the protagonists miscommunicate and giddy as they finally realize the other feels the same. I think the number of movie-romances I absorbed in my youth convinced me that thats how all love looks. I kept trying to mold crushes into some fantastical, screen-ready romance.

Somehow, though, I think the love I actually found has been more magical than any script I could’ve come up with in my late-night fantasizing. Funny how things turn out.