Words I Cannot Speak
I can’t say I love him,
not now, not when he turns away—
like a ship that knows the stars,
but sails beyond my bay.
I can’t say I miss him,
though nights stretch long and thin—
for every word I offer up,
he lets a little more sink in.
I can’t say I need him,
lest he forget the ground I stand—
how I’ve waited in the quiet,
with my heart held in my hand.
He drifts like smoke through morning light,
each step a little farther still—
and if I speak what lives inside,
I fear I’ll be the one he’ll will
to fade into the background,
a shadow he no longer sees—
so I hold my truth in silence deep,
where only I can know it breathes.
S
Words I Cannot Speak
