Never Sent

I wish
there was a place we could just disappear,
to talk, to be close, without any fear,
of the world outside and their thoughts and sly glances,
of tomorrow and the days after and what they may bring,
just us,
the two of us,
alone.

So I could kiss you,
And not have the world matter.
Where our short passion could flower,
in loving need,
that was meant to remain secret,
and last days, not years.

But it does not, will not, exist.
So I cannot hold you,
and tell you that you are beautiful,
and wish you well with your life,
while I taste you.

I cannot share a secret with you,
in a moment,
and have you lock it away,
have you understand.

I can only write this,
and think of what is,
and what was,
never sent.