Always I am waiting waiting waiting for the right time to tell you all the words I have stored behind my teeth and in the pockets of all my sweaters. It's just that I'm so sure the sun speaks out of your mouth, that you will be the only person who will swallow my sentences immediately after I've said them so they don't have time to float away into outer space where Pluto and all of my other lost loves are orbiting. My greatest fear is that you'll stop holding me like my hands are made of the Milky Way and instead like the love I'm capable of giving you is simply measured with the spoon I use to stir my peppermint tea. I have stumbled tripped tumbled into the atmosphere of your smile, been dragged under by the waves of your breath on my neck in the earliest hours of the morning. I ask only that you keep loving my arms that aren't strong, keep watching me like I taught the sky how to make rain (because I'll never stop watching you that way.)