i could write a million different combinations
of letters and words, a thousand ways
to tell the world how i feel about you,
and you’d still have only the one.
you say i love you and all i feel is
a stabbing pain in the middle of my chest.
you see, i find it unfair that my words
blossom and expand and touch the sky,
and yours are as predictable as a hurricane,
noticeable from a thousand miles away.
i’m supposed to be in love but it feels like
the scales are tipped in my direction,
and what a peculiar thing to be worried about
when i have someone who would
take the stars out of the sky for me.