dead wishes

'how are you?' he asks,

and I wish I could tell him,
how badly I want to run my fingertips
through his hair;
I wish I could tell him,
how I long to be encircled in his arms;
I wish I could tell him,
how much I yearn to put my lips on his,
and taste the roughness of his lips;
I wish I could tell him,
how much I think about him when the dark swallows the sun;
I wish I could tell him,
that I never stop loving him,
that I still love him, with every inch of my broken heart
I wish I could tell him,
that even after he shattered my heart,
the pieces of my brokenness still can find a reason
to love him, unbrokenly.

But I tell him what I always tell everyone,
'I'm alright' and like everyone else, he believes me.