if

if we were lovers
each morning i would come
to you with a cup of coffee
stroke the smooth skin over
your hip bone, run my hand
down your outer thigh, break
over you sighing
wake up, wake up. you could
turn to me we could
run our lips over the taste
of night receding. lick
the lines from our faces
and melt into nineteen again.
but we aren't. so i don't
i keep tenderness
from my tongue, venus
out of my breath, the stars
from bursting into song
over places we've
already  never been.