Those Unsaid Words

An ethereal scene unfolds before me

As you slowly stroll in my direction.

Your delicate hands,

Brushing against the dusty wooden railing

As silence falls slowly around us,

Marred only by the splashing sound of the water beneath.

And as you stop before me,

The sun shines its vibrant hue

Onto that thick lustrous black hair

Making it look preternaturally glossy,

And highlights every nook and crevice

In that nonpareil countenance

That Nature had taken time and care

To mould from scratch.

I stare straight into your eyes,

Distracted only by the flecks of green

Swimming in those ocean-blue orbs;

And I wish

That I could penetrate deep into your soul

With my eyes alone,

So that I would be

So bare and vulnerable in front of you

That those unsaid words-

Unable to escape coherently from my mouth,

Would get deeply embedded into your core,

All on their own.

Because darling,

I long to sculpt these words,

Stringing them together slowly,

Carefully,

One by one,

Into a suitable

Declaration of my love for you.

But my fingers are so clumsy and clammy,

And they tremble so much

That the string loosens.

And the words -

They become too tangled

And get so misplaced

As they fall,

Piece by piece,

Like beads,

Separated from the link

That binds them together;

Distorting the feelings

That are stored

And pent up for long

In my heart.

And as you stare back at me,

With that unknown expression

I’ve come to think of, as hope,

I can do nothing but smile;

While the dusty wooden floor is littered,

With all the eloquent words

That slips from my grasp.