Those Unsaid Words
An ethereal scene unfolds before me
As you slowly stroll in my direction.
Your delicate hands,
Brushing against the dusty wooden railing
As silence falls slowly around us,
Marred only by the splashing sound of the water beneath.
And as you stop before me,
The sun shines its vibrant hue
Onto that thick lustrous black hair
Making it look preternaturally glossy,
And highlights every nook and crevice
In that nonpareil countenance
That Nature had taken time and care
To mould from scratch.
I stare straight into your eyes,
Distracted only by the flecks of green
Swimming in those ocean-blue orbs;
And I wish
That I could penetrate deep into your soul
With my eyes alone,
So that I would be
So bare and vulnerable in front of you
That those unsaid words-
Unable to escape coherently from my mouth,
Would get deeply embedded into your core,
All on their own.
Because darling,
I long to sculpt these words,
Stringing them together slowly,
Carefully,
One by one,
Into a suitable
Declaration of my love for you.
But my fingers are so clumsy and clammy,
And they tremble so much
That the string loosens.
And the words -
They become too tangled
And get so misplaced
As they fall,
Piece by piece,
Like beads,
Separated from the link
That binds them together;
Distorting the feelings
That are stored
And pent up for long
In my heart.
And as you stare back at me,
With that unknown expression
I’ve come to think of, as hope,
I can do nothing but smile;
While the dusty wooden floor is littered,
With all the eloquent words
That slips from my grasp.