Alone, I write the things I should have said to you
Because my throat feels like the precipice of a waterfall
And what traverses my lips will fall
Spiraling off into the rivers and the sea
The words which hung like swirling pools holding plants and small fish
given inertia
would tumble out away from control of myself
and I might tell you the whole truth
you might learn that I loved you
not for any purpose or reason
any more than the reason things from high places fall down
because of the way
that love is to me
a feeling
and you inspire me
to dream of fantastic things
and in you there is a spring of hope
I fear to lose you to the unstoppable motions of the truth
so often I find that dreams are just so
stories