All those words. Countless. Would have never been enough.
Would have done this, would have done that. Would have played in bed, would have had you on knees with your hair in hand, would have been between your thighs before there was any light to be guided by. Born again to the rise of your hips and bite of your ass. Would have touched you just so. Would have trust.
Would hear your voice outside my head. Your trembling whispers here.
Would have been there after one of your crippling bad dreams. Would have warmed you in the shivering fall. Would have kissed you in the dark. Would have held your hand to my heart.
Would have stopped pretending and romanticizing. Would have you.
There’s no getting over anything. There is forgetting the would have and thinking of the will or will not.