A Profession

I have found comfort
in being the constant
of being enamored by you,
without wishes,
without promises,
or confessions,
just conversations
which you would start
by holding my hand
and we would end,
yes, we would part
hours, miles apart--
yet our smiles stay
in those few minutes
bridging the few inches
between two beating hearts
and I will never mind
that you are not mine,
because when I replay
the sound of my name
through your echoed voice,
and your steady gaze
fixates on my face,
you need not words to say
that you don't feel the same,
because I am enough,
just being enamored by you.