siting in your drawing room, the firelight illuminates you in a way that perfectly illustrates in reality how you look to my tired eyes .
you are not mine, && you likely never will be — but in these moments of shared silence, unencumbered by the weight of both your life, && mine, i allow myself to make note of how my heart flickers in your wake, prodded, like the flames in the fireplace, by your hand .
i could never air these sickeningly sweet thoughts of mine . for your wife need occupy the space my silly affections would take up, && your son need know the stability of your perfect roots .
&& though i write this to you now, you will never see it . i will throw it into the flame flickering in the fireplace, in your drawing room.
i will throw it into the fire that illuminates you in a way that perfectly illustrates, in reality, how you look to my tired eyes .
- j.s.w. - the thoughts of an unrequited lover ; I .
