I do not know if I love you.
I do not have gemstone words,
Nor love’s carnation flowers. 

I feel soft things in softer spaces,
I feel stirrings of regret—
Like silver threads in a spider’s web.

I do not know if I love you,
I do not have a fond farewell
Nor adoration’s rosy color.

I feel sharp edges in jagged splinters,
I feel absence in every touch—
Like smoke curled around fingers.

I do not know if I love you.
I do not hold the thorns of roses
Nor the quiet of falling petals.