Desire

You are always going away

Somewhere, inhabiting a life

I know so little of,

And I am always retreating a little 

into myself.

I could say a number of things

For instance, I have often wondered 

how it would be like to kiss you,

but there is so much at stake.

We are always surrounded by friends,

a precaution you have made a point to take

at a place like ours;

small-town stifling atmosphere

where people talk

and anything can be a fodder for scandals.

I long for you even as I sit next 

to you in the car,

the air tense with our mutual desire;

I wonder if other people can sense it too.

Some days you give me hints,

But for all your years, you seem

As bewildered and confused

On where we stand.

By now it has grown into a fever,

consuming me like cancer,

By now you send me notes,

all along your travels,

probably missing me a little.