it’s not that she sits next to me
but more a shaped proximityi cannot say my life’s complete
nor swoon i when our eyes should meet
though when her form is near my own
words like Hope augment their toneall the stars which wink at night
have made no shift toward the right
no sweeping’s done off steady feet
my heart has yet to skip a beatbut when the morning sun shines through
and all these nots become untrue
the fragile seem of every dream
is skimmed from sleep as poet’s cream