A/N: I've just been thinking about all the times I've tried to tell someone how I feel. R&R me, I'll R&R you. Keep writing.


"I can't find the words..."

A shocking statement, really,

coming from the girl

who hopes to be published.

I'm almost thrown by it-

what have you done to me?

"I just wanted to say..."

I'm writing a novel in my head,

the words just haven't found their way out yet.

I think about you all the time,

your name gets stuck in my head.

I dissect every move you make,

I love our game of give-and-take.

"Sorry. Just give me a minute."

I want to hit save on this conversation,

come back when I know how to fix it.

It'd be easier if I had a pencil,

I could erase this awkward silence.

Your eyes study me carefully,

I wonder if I look as sick as I feel.

Spaced out, I'm scared.

What if I let something slip?

"Sorry. I'm okay. I just-"

My voice is faltering,

actually getting quiet.

Does that mean you officially

hear the way my heart is pounding?

You're smiling. Expectantly?

Do you see the words on the tip of my tongue?

Have they started radiating from my body?

A euphoric panic comes over me...

"...I just had a rough day. What's up with you?"

I put my head down, back where it belongs.

What made me think I could do this

without it all going wrong?