You are not mine,
to sculpt my arms around & hold.
Nor do I inhabit the ability to brush my lashes against yours, transforming into a single mold.
You are not mine,
unto whisper thoughts of truth,
or trace your dimples, with hope I will never loose.
Yet I am allowed to mentally create impossible futures,
we will never become able to share.
I am allowed to picture every inch of your being, from strong calfs & gentle hands,
to effortless brunette hair.
I am allowed to feauture you in my dreams,
our limbs so gracefully intertwined.
I fantasize you brushing aside strands of my hair,
whispering sweetly,
" you are forever mine. "
I am reminded,
you are not mine.
No matter how deeply I long for the warmth of your embrace,
or the tempting image of your luminate face.
I am reminded,
you are not mine.
Your wavy locks and sparkling eyes,
belong to another.
My only wish that I could deservingly hope,
is for you to give all the love you possibly can,
to her.