I can't say this out loud.
I think I could love you.
The unintentional effrontery of the previous declaration is perhaps a bit too early for your heart to absorb.
Or perhaps mine.
But if your face continues to express the nature of your soul and your words continue to set fire to my good sense,
And if you continue to tell me stories that force my love,
And halt my breath,
Fate doth compel my mind to say it out loud
And insanity perhaps hath found
A foothold in the nook of my heart.
I think I could love you.