Yes, still.

The heart has a way of finding you

Of reaching out,

Of catching the hiccough in your step

In others.

Or the way you shrug,

Roundedly,

In coy denial

Of your sheer genius.

It has a way of recognizing

Your eyes,

In that,

You don’t recognize yourself anymore

When you look in the mirror

Every day

The same way I do

And I don’t

See myself either.

The heart has a way of knowing

That you too,

Are wary

And aware

Of me.

But if you aren’t

Then so be it.

More happiness to you for it.

But the heart has a way of knowing.

It knows that,

Someday,

Somewhere,

Some place

In some time.

There will be regret,

Felt anew

Maybe by me,

Maybe by you.

I wish it weren’t true.

But the heart has a way

Of knowing

You.