Between Friendship and Feeling

I thought your laughter called my name, that every spark we had was flame, I read your warmth as something true, a quiet love that only grew. You’d walk with me, so close, so near, and I would hold each second dear, while you just saw a friend beside, I saw a place where hearts could hide. I made a story out of you, where every little thing was proof, a hug, a touch, a fleeting stare, I swore there must be something there. But love’s not built on what we see, or what we wish so desperately, it doesn’t shift, it doesn’t bend, to fit the hope we try to send. You never meant to lead me on, your kindness just kept carrying on, while mine kept reaching past the line, turning your yours into a mine. Now I can see, though it still stings, not every closeness turns to wings, some hearts will meet, but not align, yours stayed yours, and never mine. And maybe love is learning this, not every almost ends in bliss, sometimes it’s just a quiet art of holding on, and letting part.