Hiraeth

Hiraeth

Whitney Hansen

You were my husband for an evening,
when you pretended not to graze my arm at the dinner table.

Our first kiss did not happen when your friend left the room.

We whispered “I love you”s in the grocery store,
but they all came out as cost calculations per ounce.

We stood side by side at the kitchen’s altar,
but never clasped hands.
There were no “I do”s,
only “Should I put this in the freezer?”

Our first kiss did not happen
when I did not offer you a ride home.

Our first kiss did not happen.

Whitney Hansen

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