For weeks the words
Had been bursting out of my heart,
Crawling up my throat and trying
To wiggle their way past my teeth
And for weeks I swallowed them,
Pushing them back into my over-full heart,
Trying to hold them there.

It wasn't time yet, too soon,
I told myself over and over,
Though every time I looked at him
Or he smiled at me or kissed me
Or sent me a "good morning baby"
Or did anything really
I thought my heart would just stop
If I couldn't tell him soon.

Once they got out, escaped in a gasp
But through the breathing and moans
And my face in the pillow he didn't hear it
I was startled and relieved and upset at the same time
And then he started to notice there was something I was trying
And trying not to say and he started nudging, gently
But I said no, I can't tell you, not yet,
And for a few days he stopped asking.

And then one night in his bed,
Dark in the room except the TV
Casting flickering lights and shadows over us
His arms around me and his face above me,
Kissing me as he moved slowly on top of me,
He held my face in his hand and looked straight into my eyes and said
"What is it, baby?"
And out it came, I couldn't hold it back anymore,
"I love you," I said.

Suddenly I was shaking, terrified and elated,
And then as a few moments passed and he didn't say anything
I wanted to cry, to be invisible, to take back the words
And hold them safe inside me again
And then his lips brushed across my ear and he whispered
"I love you too honey"
And there, right there, in that moment,
Was happiness.