I Just Wanted to Tell You
The things we assume they already know.
There's a particular kind of silence
between people who love each other.
Not distance.
Just the assumption
that it's already understood —
that they must know
what their voice does to you,
what it means when they hold you,
that you'd drop everything
the moment they lost their way.
They usually don't.
The Poem
I just wanted to tell you
what your smile does to me
on the days I'd rather cry.
How your voice sounds
when you talk about something
that means the world to you —
and how, when you put your arms
around me,
my heart slows down
like it finally found
somewhere to stay.
I want to be the person you turn to
the second you lose your way.
I want to kiss your golden heart
with all the love I have.
I want to know
your unguarded thoughts
the way
only a lover and a friend can.
I just want to be your person —
the way you already are mine.
To kiss your doubts away.
To share your tears
and your laughter.
To touch your soul
with the purest love
I have ever felt
for another human being.
Closing Note
Say it while it's still ordinary.
Most of the things we regret
were never arguments.
They were sentences
we assumed
we'd have time for.