Songbird, Won'T You Sing

I can’t tell you. I can’t say it out loud. I’ll whisper in the night, when the wind is high. I’ll write it into every poem I breathe. but I can’t admit this - this thing to you. The truth is, it’s hard to face. This realization I’ve made. And it tears me apart, but I can’t tell you. Because I am not worthy. I’ll tell it in halves to those I trust, but never in full. Because I can’t say it, can’t risk you overhearing. I turn it into a work of fiction, in the hopes that someday it’ll fix it. Because I’m sitting here, pen to paper, with an ever-growing list of pathetic poetry. I can’t tell you. Can’t say it out loud. Because I can’t lose you. I’ll tell the bird, nestled in the tree for winter, everything I’ve had hidden away. Everything bursting at the shoddy seams of my heart. And I’ll smile at you, tell you I hate you, tell everyone I dislike you, tell myself I don’t love you. Because I can’t admit it. Not to you. Not to our friends. Not even to myself. Because I can’t face that rejection. The only one that knows the truth, wakes me each morning with it’s song. But come July, she’ll be gone. And all I’ll have left, is my denial, my tears, and a stack of poems, that you’ll never see.