Often I have wished to be able to 
reach out and hold your hand, 
or simply mutter, "I love you," 
but you don't understand. 
Perhaps I don't because it'd be a lie, 
but it doesn't seem to be one. 
Perhaps I don't because its useless to try 
to show you such emotion. 
And often I have thought, "Give me you, 
or give me death," 
only to remember, "I'd miss you," 
in the same mental breath. 
I dread that inevitable day, 
when we will each 
have to go a different way, 
putting you, forever, out of my reach. 
Often the idea of a whole 
summer, without you, 
frightening and cold, 
has left me feeling blue. 
And yet that's stupid of me; 
already, I have lost. 
Loving you's an agony; 
guess it's worth the cost. 

March 5, 1985