Polaroids

I heard that
sending a woman a love letter
is harassment, and I can see why -
you didn’t ask for it;
my love doesn’t entitle
me to any of you. So
I shall not send you this,
shall not tell you
that today morning
getting out of the bath, I dreamt
of tracing crop circles
on your shoulder, like you used
to ask me to do.
I felt affection
like I imagine
a father must feel - is that weird?

You don’t owe me anything -
but these Polaroids of love
are mine, and I enjoy
how they flutter in
uninvited
like you used to.