If I tell you I love you,
what then?

As much as I'd like to
play with the stardust in your hair
and dance under moonbeams
to our favorite song on repeat,
I know that these are merely dreams.
They will crumble into the
harsh reality of daisies trying to
bloom during the frost
as soon as I grasp them in my palms.

Poets write of forevers and somedays,
but I know that as of this moment, this
will absolutely not
last forever and that someday
is not a day of the week, I'm
doing you a favor, sweetheart.
I've seen the aftermath of too many heartbreaks
and spent too much on buying
boxes of Kleenex for my friends to
even want you.

Whisper all the sweet things you can,
make promises of cottages and
chestnut colored horses, but
we are young and
we are fools.
These hearts are too precious to waste on
someone we can't count on to be there
through the thunderstorms and electricity bills.
We aren't ready for this and
you
know it.

I am saving all
for one day giving all
away, but not yet.
It could be you
it might be you
maybe.
Someday.
Forever?

Maybe someday we'll be forever,
but not today.
If it's you, then

it's you who will be holding my heart delicately
in your palms and it will be
whole.
And you will thank me, because

if I tell you I love you,
(now)
what then?

They'll think the scars on our wrists are
tattoos, and
they wouldn't be wrong.

They wouldn't be wrong.