He wished he knew.
When he saw her he wanted to walk across the floor,
Always, really, always,
Hug her, and tell her he loved her too.
But most of the time
It wouldn’t be appropriate.
Some of the time,
It worked with just a glance.
Still, it was a great idea:
Some of the time though,
He had a promise he couldn’t keep.
He hated telling her.
But she did know anyway, because
He turned away, and was sour.
She just didn’t know why, which wasn’t okay.
Some of the time
There was a confusion in his life unresolved,
Or in the angles, or unknown emotions
In a new tune,
Which, she couldn’t resolve anyway.
They were just complexities.
Probably a moment to talk would be good.
A moment to talk was always good.
But if that wasn’t there, it couldn’t be absolutely vital.
He wished he knew
How to keep it simple.
It was so beautifully, extra-ordinarily,
Was the heart of it.
He knew she wished the same.