I keep meaning to give you
all the letters that I
wrote
and to
resist
this restraint, my hand holding onto
the paper
of the words
I almost told you,
felt the need to tell you,
in the silhouette of
candle flame and
sitting alone.

I'm so courageous when I'm
by myself,
and when I know what my lungs
feel like
what my fingers feel like, pinching a
pen to tell you, wholeheartedly,
the things I
will not say

I keep meaning to give you the letters
I wrote you,
I wrote you my secret and

a secret is a loss
that feels like an
ephemeral
victory