on the tip of my tongue

on the tip of my tongue 

yet my lips are sealed

it’s funny how my mind runs

100 miles per minute

yet the minute 

the miles 

absolve into nothingness

& You stand before Me 

in all your awkward, 

anxious perfection

my mind cannot find the time

or the rhyme 

to align 

the thoughts in my head

& the desires of my heart

& manifest every inclination within Me

to tell You

that I love You.

I love the crescent moon-shaped 

chip on your front tooth

& I love that one hair 

that curls more than the rest

& beautifully frames 

your unforgettable eyes.

I love the way You say my name

& how it seems to tame

every little fear I have about the world

& if You’ll be there with me 

when it crumbles to dust one day.

I love the way your lips form the words

of the pages You read

& the way You talk about them

as if they were your own.

I love how I feel when You love me.

but I never told You that.

try as I might 

to fight 

the restraints of my head

& turn what I write 

into something I said 

the inescapable biting of my tongue 

overcame the endless songs that I sung 

over 

& over 

& over 

again in my mind 

about You.

& You mistook my silence 

for some falsely-constructed violence 

in which I played the villain 

& you played the victim.

& You ran like my mind

100 miles per minute

away from me 

until You absolved 

into nothingness.

now I sit here writing about 

that chip in your tooth You wouldn’t shut up about

& your one stupid perfect curl

& how I’ll now be alone at the end of the world

& I

I miss how I felt when You loved me.

& You’ll never know a thing.