Good in Blue 

 Hannah Shealy

I wanted to tell him his hair looked nice and I bet he looked good in blue.

I wanted to ask him about his family 

And if they looked good in blue

…Also

I wanted to know what he had for breakfast every morning and why he had skipped this morning’s.

I wanted him to say it was because he was unhappy and did not want to overcrowd the unhappiness. 

I wanted to grasp his terminally cold fingers in between my own.

I wouldn’t let the inside of my fingers touch his, 

Leaving pockets of space between every one of my fingers and every one of his

So I would not overcrowd his unhappiness,

Because I loved him.

I wanted to know his hands were terminally cold and he didn’t just forget his coat at home today,

Because I felt his touch so often.

This is when I wanted to tell him I loved him.

And I would tell him.

And he would tell me he loved me back.

But all we ever said was “hello”,

And sometimes “Hi”,

Or maybe “Good morning”

And always “would you like whipped cream on that?”

“No. Not ever. Thank you, but I’m lactose intolerant.”