Let Them Think, I'm Alone

Looking across the cushioned pew,
I sigh as I see my parents sit closer,
My father's firm hands holding my mother's pale shoulders.
Her blond hair draping over their arms like a golden spider's web.

I look across the aisle,
And see other couples together.
All leaning into one another,
Some holding warmed hands,
Tempting crystal smiles.

Here I sit,
Holding hands with a memory of his.
Memories of something sweet,
chilling small places on my neck and cheek,
And a shiver shakes my back,
Lightning cradling my skull and soothing the pressured drum of my heart.

I can't help but remember everything…
And as I sit here,
I appear alone.
When in reality,
My heart is in his hand,
And the sweet warmth of his skin,
Is still tingling the palms of my own.

Let them think that I am alone.

Let them think that I am foolish and insane.

Because really,
If anything,
I've learned how not to be.
How not to treat others. To love others.

Because I know,
There is no touch more exciting, more electrifying,

Then his.