Jennifer Angelina Petro
When I heard your footsteps
I dropped my book and pretended to be sleeping.
You lingered, touching the poems
On my desk. You whispered things
Only the ink remembers.
After reading them, testing their weight,
You said the one word I longed and dreaded to hear.
I lifted my head but couldn’t meet your eyes.
And you, for your part, took my hand.