what i wish i had told you  

by Elizabeth Moore

that night 

on the rooftop

when the moon hung 

like a sliver of floss

as fragile and fleeting

as our lonely relationship 

where you could not care for me 

and could not articulate why

that night

in Brooklyn

when my hands flung heavenward

like silk scarves in the wind 

on their way to touch the sky

dizzy and delighted by existence 

the same way I was delighted by yours

that night 

when New York lit the sky

when everything shimmered with possibility

when my hair danced and twirled 

and framed my face

that bloomed like a wildflower 

and looked over my shoulder

to see if you noticed

I came to let go,

though you didn’t need it.

I came to say good-bye

though we already had.

I came to close this chapter 

that has already ended in your book

and may never resolve in mine.

I left without understanding why 

my love is a gift you cannot receive. 

As you slip out of my thoughts

and as I certainly slip out of yours, 

as we become familiar strangers

regarding each other through glass, 

as I forget to miss the shape of your back, 

and the softness of your eyelids, 

and the strength of your palms, 

I will cheer for you, always. 

I will believe in you, always. 

I wish I had told you.

I want you to know.