Yearning

This is not poetry, nor a poem,

but a confession of what the mouth hesitates to say 

of a yearning that burns like fire,

as if I sit on the edge of a cliff between desire and restraint,

between I am forbidden to and I ache to.

To draw him near, to hold his hand,

until the space between us forgets to exist.

Where Sunrise Met Midnight

When two different worlds collided,
and sunrise brushed past midnight,
that is how I found you
a stranger
who became part of my life.

Like crayon on empty paper,

you colored my day,

like a paint, 
you turned blank canvas
into a vivid painting.

Your warm words fell softly
like rain on forgotten land,
and slowly
a garden within me began to wake again,
learning how to bloom.

We have never stood close enough to touch,
yet somehow
you reached the deepest part of my heart.