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I Don’t Need Mountains, Just Your Love

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Just the two, sitting there

Across the table from one another.

She watches him.

The feelings for him–the love,

Swelling in her chest.


She tugs his gloves off

The dirty, worn gauntlets.

Pressing fingertip, to fingertip.

She asks him, “have these hands held?”

He responds, “once.”


It’s in his eyes—

The sudden reluctance to speak.

The far away distance…

She can see it.


Had he loved ever?

He says so…

But he avoids it. Her. Them.

And it hurts her.


Grazing fingers draw the lines

Of his palms.

A twist in her gut—

She doesn’t want to hear about her.


But she asks anyway. “Her name?”


Palm to Palm.

Fingers splayed to wrist.


She listens to him speak,

About that long-lost lover,

From all those years ago.

A time when he was happy.


“I can’t remember her face.

Just her eyes…foliage in the light.”

Softly she speaks, “hold onto that.

That feeling.”


He shakes his head, “I’m just a fighter,

this world doesn’t hold love for me.”

It’s in her eyes—

The love, the desire, the want.


“You’ve held before.

You can do it again.”

1 Comment
  1. Victor Hereldus 6 years ago


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