It's the feeling of a hand
Hovering so close to your skin
But never touching you,
The nearing of an asymptote,
The haunting of an almost ghost,
The fading of an ever-lingering warmth,
The words stuck in your throat,
The gesture frozen in your limbs,
The shadow of an imagined presence,
The sunrise on a cloudy day,
It's the love almost felt,
Hovering only as close to the skin,
But never professed earnestly out loud.
