by Anonymous

You say I can ask you anything,
But not this: If love does not envy,
Why do I? I ask though I know 
The answer. Your love is not meant for

A lesser love, worthy of heaven but not earth,
Heaven, where I’ll be made perfect,
Cleansed of my sins, of the shards
Of the home I would have 

You look at her like she’s the sun,
But I am only looking for one thing
I cannot look upon her radiant smile,
Because I search her left hand for a 

I can be but for a lonely hour,
A welcome intruder in your home,
‘Till the silence becomes heavy with 
Words left unsaid. And then I write this

There’s no priest behind the curtain,
So voiceless I must confess,
Fleeting lines of verse, a single chance
to say what I never will: Don’t say