What I couldn't say
on those dark, dark nights,
with your hands in my hair,
your name in my throat.
The sound of the sheets rustling,
soft music,
the shell of my heart cracking.

What I wouldn't say
on those hot, hot mornings,
with your eyes boring into mine,
your words heavy on my chest.
The hope that refused to die,
buried deep,
the soft flesh of my heart tearing.

I would give anything.
I won't say anything.