Never.

Never have I ever
loved with the simplicity of fresh toast.
Never drank so quick the ice didn’t have a chance to melt
as whiskey pooled and caressed throat.
Never sang too loud
in a car too fast
as rain came down
fast to blind a road
all too familiar.
Never have I ever
hated anyone enough to sell family heirlooms handed
down, soft jade caressed— by faceless hands.
Never fought off jealous bees for honey fresh and warm.
Never have I railed at the world as the sun moved behind clouds.
Never have I ever lusted over another’s hands at hammer and nail.
Never saw a need to devein cold shrimp
until my fingers bleed.
 
Never felt the lack.
And yet even though I never wanted anyone enough to wear
tall shiny shoes, they still wait lonely in my closet.
​Odd sentinels for all that has not been done.