So many times, I would sit
And look out of the window, thinking
Of what I would say to you
If you were sitting there next to me,
A visitor to my world.

But the words evaporated away
When you and I occupied
The same room, finally.

So I looked occasionally at you,
But mainly at my feet.
Or my fingernails.
And sometimes I said
Incredibly unimportant, trivial things
In an attempt to divide the silence
Into bite size portions.

Had I found the courage,
I might have told you
Just how important you are to me.
Or how much I love you.
Or how wonderful I think,
And have for so long thought,
You are.

Or maybe all of the above.

But I was too scared of scaring you,
Of making you feel uncomfortable,
Of going so close that I might
Have pushed you away
Like I did before.

So we dance nimbly around
The perimeter, as we always seemed to do.
And I hoped that when I smiled
At you, you may get some idea
Of how special you are to me.

And just before you left, I tried
To say it with a hug, but it didn’t say
Half of what I wanted to say.

11/16/2001

Posted on 11/17/2001
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