Knowing (and not)

How can you know,

that I connected your bated breaths on the phone line
with all the kind words you said?
all your silly jokes.

How could you?
How could you know,

that I didn't need that key or extra copy
just a chance to see you--
to maybe talk.

How could you know,

that the deep compassion, deep feeling, in your brow
for those you hardly knew
was so different.

How could you know

that through these minute interaction,
you gave me strength;
an invalid sipping broth.


How could you know

that while you were silently seeking yourself,
I was bound to one who devoid himself,
stoic.

That as you provided nourishing broth,
he provide gut-wrenching poison.

That while you praised my gifts and took interest,
he mocked and belittled them.

How could you know

that I would fall for you?

but that i would keep my hands out
to catch myself,
to protect myself,
to deny myself.

Others see it-- the wandering prophets told me so.

"we weren't sure if you were together," said the youngest.
"What made you think that?" I asked.
"It's the way you two communicate."

my heart froze in that second.
that moment refused me the safty off writing of my connection with you
as just another person to whom you shared compassion.

if this stranger saw what I told myself couldn't be true,
maybe there would the slightest chance,
just the tiniest fragment of possibility
that what I thought of you
was what you thought
of me.