I held my tongue,

throughout all those months.

I tossed,


and tossed again,

in my bed.

My thoughts,

screaming to get out.

So now I am,

standing here,

in front of him.

This is my confession.

I. . .

do not know,

where to start.

So I will say,

"I have something to tell you."

And he will say,

"What's on your mind?"

The words will stick in my throat,

like dry sandpaper.

I finally swallow,

and say,

"I. . . "

Why am I doing this?

Why am I confessing?

Why can't I just say it?

My head says,

"It'll never work."

My heart says,

"There is always hope."

So I finally confess.

I say,

what is on my mind.

My mind,

is racing.

My heart,

is about to bust.

I confess to what I,

truly feel about him.

He listens,

to my confession.

When I pour,

out everything.

He says,

"It'll never work. . . "

Then he says,

my name.

He says,

what I already know.


is more important to me.

Then I am,

to him.

As I listen,

to his words.

His gentle words.

He confesses too.

He says he feels something,

with me too.

My little hope,

in my heart,

begins to bloom.

Then it is dashed,

by reality.

He will,

be long gone,

by the time,

we could have a chance.

Confession over.