New

I have seen you once,

just long enough to know the way

your mouth tilts slightly when you think,

the way your voice lingers on certain words

as if tasting them twice.

And now, Valentine’s Day

sprawls across the city

shop windows brimming with red,

lovers leaning into promises

they have already begun to forget.

But I do not love you.

I do not even know you.

I do know the slight hesitation before we parted,

as if time had loosened its grip

for just a moment.

The way I walked home,

your name pressing itself into my skin

like a hand laid gently on my back.

And tonight, as the world drowns in roses,

I let myself wonder where you are,

whether you are thinking of me,

whether we will meet again.