the reminder

it hurts to hear the ache.
not the ache in whats gone,
but the longing in wanting.
wanting to be that,
that warmth.
that solace.
that good.
to be the space
between
the keys that ring,
as each melody silently
cries for
more.
the letter in each
word
begging for a promise,
in his prose,
in his poems,
in his promises.
sacred and unfilfilled
are these secrets
never to be
shared with
me.
for other ears
to other pasts
and other girls.
but alas, i will never be these things.
and yet, i can still feel that ache.
and know
that though such odes
don't belong to those like
me
i can still hope
that one day they will.