What
is joy
compared to
a lasting
ache
In joy
I lack the
preoccupation
the restless attachment
the wondering if
my feelings are matched
or returned at all
In joy
all I have
is the way
you leaned in to kiss me
The memory of standing
in the stairwell
you held my gaze
you held me
to share you’re not
seeing anyone else
All I have
are the hands
that didn’t let go of mine
from that first kiss
in the middle of your kitchen
I’m not sure how to write
in joy
But I can try.