Say it.

Just say it.

I need to hear you say it.

I needed to hear you say it.

Say it because you wanted to.

Say it because you needed to.

Say it because you knew

I needed to hear it.

Say it because you couldn’t

hold the words in any longer.

Let them escape from your mouth,

like a sigh escaped from mine

when you caressed my face.

Say it like it would have been

the last thing

that would have left your mouth.

Stand there—

in front of me—

vulnerable—

and say it.

Say it with your lips.

Say it with your hands.

Say it with your eyes.

Say it with your whole being.

Say it.

Just say it,

but don’t just say it.

Mean it.

Feel the words.

Mold them with your mouth.

and feel them in your heart.

Make me feel them in my heart.

Make me believe them

with every ounce of my being.

I need you to mean it.

I needed you to mean it.

Mean it because it’s true.

Mean it in your eyes.

Mean it in your heart.

Envelop me with the words.

Make them impossible to ignore.

Surround me with them—

like rain drops on a stormy day.

Your words like puddles—

tempting

my rain boots to dive in.

Mean it

without ever even having to say it.

Mean it.

You stand there in front of me

and my rain—

my words—

surround you—

and I fume.

Your brow doesn’t furrow.

You stand still—

calm—

collected—

blank—

empty—

cold.

My face is hot.

I can feel the fire on my cheeks—

Red—

teeth clenched—

raging.

I shake.

The hairs on my arms raise—

goose bumps—

from your cool exterior.

I see the lightning.

Your mouth moves,

but I can’t hear the words—

I hear no thunder.

I can’t even hear the raindrops.

I just wanted you to mean it.

But you can’t mean it—

you can’t even say it.

I don’t want you to say it.

Don’t say it.

I can’t hear it.

I won’t hear it.