Per Amore

My shoes are blue today
And his are black
As I try once again
To tell him everything.
For not the first time
I stand before him,
Delightfully inarticulate,
Stumbling through my thoughts.
Now, I’m manhandling words.
Next, the awkward phrases
Which distort themselves
Past any semblance of
Recognizeability
The moment they touch air.
I watch the far wall,
The desk beside us,
My nervous fingers,
Anything but him
As I sing the stuttered song
I have long practiced,
Accompanied only
By a human drum.
All this he watches,
Viewing me with feigned patience,
Looking for a chance to leave.
I sigh.
The chance is lost
Until another day.