Almost, but not quite

Neither of us turned the rice cooker on.

Was it a slow burn – the kind we both say we like – or just a literal burn waiting to happen?

Somewhere between December and longing,

I realized that the year was ending, 

but I was still standing in a place I was never meant to stay.

I guess it was on me for thinking that there was something more

In the way you held my hand

In the way we’d vanish into our own bubble when we’re together

In the way you laughed at my corny jokes

In the way you gazed at me with that sparkle in your eye

In the way your touch lingered, even though you’re not like that with anyone else.

I guess it was on me for hoping, even when I already knew the truth.

For remembering your favorite flowers, your favorite drink, and your sweet tooth.

For thinking that closeness could mean something more than it ever would.

And somewhere between the slow burn I craved,

and the reality I could not touch,

I learned that some people are never ours to keep, no matter how close we came to.