Solitude

I loved you once with a fragile hope that I could kiss your hurts
and brush my soft words over the scars along your arms and heart.
I wanted to trace my fingers over your veins,
journey over the little imperfections of your soul,
and tell you that you were beautiful still.
I tried to show you all my favorite things about you,
the way your smoky words sent shivers down my spine,
and how your presence felt like coming home at last.
I would have breathed you in, taking you into my body with a greedy lust,
and held you there until my lungs begged to release you
into the world where my thoughts and hopes for you are muffled
by the bright noises and haunting remnants of what the world wanted for itself and us.