There will never be enough words for you.
Probably that’s why I keep trying.
But what you mean to me is a swell of feeling, something I don’t know how to find voice for.
Not all the way.
You ask me for an explanation, for reason, for words when they don’t exist.
I am pleonastic, skin covered in scrawled ink,
But I can’t give you what you want,
Can’t give you something that is swimming so large inside me.
Because what I feel for you is more than me, more than I have ever had contained within me before.
I love you like you’re mine.

I thought that we were two cars
driving too fast in opposite directions.
Destined to drive
in hopeless, helpless circles

I thought that you were going to leave me waiting for you
on the side of the road
But when it all seemed so bleak
And your taillights disappeared from view
And tears like ice dripped down my cheeks
I saw the fading light stall.

A heart changing directions
And you came back.
Two hands holding onto different ways to say "I miss you."

I recognized both.
Welcome back.
and
I love you.

You came back, and I know
I know that we are two cars
And sometimes we will head in different directions
But we will always head back for home

Arms full of
Welcome back
and hearts full of

I love you.

We cannot write silence.
The beats.
The pause.
The breath.
The way it aches
and persists

and begs that,

if only for a moment,

our consciousness is only a whisper.
our bodies,
our lips,
the air that passes through falling chests
and stillness.

A melody of emotion.
Sleeping in the quiet of a heartbeat skipped
a word lost to the wind.

The wickedness of reticence
Encapsulated in air and time.

The moment stretched too long.
Hesitation perpetuated in the grip of fingernails
pressed into palms.

We cannot write silence,
but we can try.

to find a way to immortalize emotion
to create space
in the ceaseless drone of words that speak and spin.

I cannot write silence. But I can write
tears and years
and the burn of long-stretched lies.

I can write goodbyes and hellos
And dozen ways to say
I love to hate you
Or
I hate to love you
and sometimes
I cannot tell the difference.
Silence.
The space I have upheld for myself.

I love to hate you
Heart.

I hate to love you too.

I cannot write silence.
But I know it.
and I have held it in my hand.