The confession? It never happened.
Because I can’t seem to find the courage to tell you, right from the start, that there’s something growing within me. But sometimes I think perhaps we can nurture it together, forever.
But you know what’s keeping me from bursting it all out? It’s the thought that maybe, while I cry in vain to secretly reach you and hold you and warm your ears with the breath of my promises, you extend your arms in the other direction, towards someone else.
And like the many moments in the past, I’ll just curl my arms back to my pens and start finishing my poems.
photo: Abigail Amon