The Things I Never Say Aloud

Silent confessions, breath by breath.

Some feelings live in the pause between one heartbeat and the next—

not loud, not desperate, but persistent,

like the scent of rain clinging to warm pavement.

I watch you speak,

and part of me memorizes

not just your words

but the breath you take between them.

How absurd it is,

to fall for someone’s silences

more than their sentences.

There are a thousand ways to say I want you,

but none feel as honest

as the way my eyes return to you

when I think no one is watching.

I’ve written entire monologues in my head—

of confessions,

of invitations,

of choosing you in the quietest ways imaginable.

But when you sit beside me,

close enough to touch but polite enough not to,

I forget every script.

All that remains

is the echo of your nearness,

and the reckless hope

that maybe you hear

everything I never say aloud.