I Can’t Tell You…

I don’t see you every day…
It’s not that often…
Perhaps every week,
Or so.

But when that meeting occurs,
Regardless of the periodicity…

I fall hopelessly in love
With you,

In conversation with you,
I can discuss the work schedule.

I can make small-talk about the weather,
Any number of topics
That I can raise.

But there are some things
Though absolutely true,
That I can’t tell you…

I can’t tell you
That you are the most
Beautiful woman
Ever to fill my eyes.

I can’t tell you
That you
Epitomize the glamour,
And elegance,
And depth of passion
That captivate my heart.

I can’t tell you…

What I can’t tell you…

Is that I am in love
With you.

No other woman,
Reaches me,
Connects with me,
Finishes me…

As you do.

And now…
With all the pain…
And required stifling
Of my heart,

I weep.

Knowing that you
Will never be able to
Hear the true words
Of my longing.

All the things…

I can’t tell you.



© 2017 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

Categories PoetryTags , ,

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