In Wrong

there is a
right, that
strips me
bare, and I
am suddenly
aware
of being naked,
only in my
socks,
understanding

the necessity
of second
chances, but
in substance

I am vulnerable, 

still obsessed

with being
in your
presence,
promised to
the thought
that you
would stay, I
still

believe in
serendipity, 
knowing I am
not forgotten
yet in essence,
linked to
loss, the love it
hurts to be
so optimistic,
wanting
something
altogether
idealistic, our
toes to touch

and I can
ask, but will
not get
the words
I crave, "I am
yours," and if
there really is a
greater plan,
"I want you
as my
own," let it
lead me to

the truth, your
body that fits
perfectly in
mine.