What I’m Afraid to Say I talk to you like nothing's on my mind, Like all I see are notes we have to find. But truth hides in the pauses and the space— In how I look away to guard my face. I laugh too soft, or maybe not enough, Pretending that my heart is not in rough. You sit so close, and still, you cannot see The storm of words you’ve stirred inside of me. I like you—more than I can ever show. I wish you knew, but I don’t let it go. Not out of shame, or doubt that you’re the one, But fear of what might happen if it’s done. What if you smile kindly, then retreat? What if you say, “That’s sweet,” and then repeat The way we were, but never quite the same— And I’m the one who lit the awkward flame? So I stay quiet, speak in safer ways, Hide truth behind the things we say for days. About the test, the chapters left to do— While every page just leads me back to you. I hope one day I’ll find the words and time, To hand you this small secret wrapped in rhyme. But for tonight, I’ll sit just one breath near, And love you silently, and keep you