Grow into Significance

It is as though something grows out of these still times. We are here, and we are alone together watching each second pass between us as though it has the potential to grow into something significant. It is as though this should be a time we both look back upon, knowing that something began here. We should, we know, be able to look back and pinpoint this time, one of these very seconds that lie between us, as the time when it all really began.

The seconds, though, grow and pass before us, and still my fingertip hesitates over your cheek as though the moment when one touches the other will be momentous, as though that one touch, gentle as it will be, will bear all the weight of what is to come.

Your head turns, almost imperceptibly towards my outstretched finger as though there is some gravity there, some attraction. We both want that moment to come, and yet we hesitate as though we know too much about the consequences such acts can bring. Both of us bear the weight of too much history as it is, and both of us know what a heavy burden such seemingly simple acts can bring with them.

So, my finger hesitates… and then falls, as your face turns away from it, and we both look back into eyes filled with regret for what might have been, but could not ever be.