Your Hand

Sometimes, late in the night,
i catch myself going through your photographs
catching a glimpse of you, and thinking to myself
of all the good times we shared
despite the fact i never got to hold your hand-
or share a kiss or cuddle
but it still hurts me the same
to see your hands around her waist
i wonder what you're doing right now,
i wonder what could be plaguing your intelligent mind
it sure as hell isn't me
and i understand it never will be