Was it casual when I showed you my poem?  
It was not.  
Not many get to see that part of me,  
The part I keep hidden,  
Buried deep.  

Writing those poems only makes me love you more,  
Each word a quiet confession,  
Each line a reminder
This love is not like the others.  
I’ve never felt this way before.  

The day I tell you my feelings,  
The day you tell me you don’t feel the same  
That day will be the end of me.  

Three years I’ve loved you.  
Three years of silence,  
And yet not speaking to you  
Has never stopped me from thinking of you.  

I won’t tell you I love you.  
Not yet.  
Hoping my feelings might change,  
Hoping yours might too.  

But I’m not ready to hear those words  
“I don’t love you.”  
I already know you don’t,  
But until you say it,  
It’s not my reality.  

So I will wait for you.