'I couldn't talk about it, so I wrote a poem'
Love feels like it's at the tip of my tongue, like the word I know but can't quite get.
I can feel it resting its hand upon my palm and before I can intertwine our fingers it quickly pulls away.
As if teasing me to run after it, so I do, running as fast as my legs let me go, trying to breathe in as much air as possible with burning lungs.
But I can't quite give up.
Not now, not ever, but maybe later.
My legs can no longer carry the weight of my body.
They shake and quiver, quickly letting me plummet to the ground face first.
Embarrassing me and yet she, Love continues running, so I muster the courage to continue and run.
Run until there is no air in my lungs.
Run until my legs feel numb.
Run until my heart can longer beat in a rhythm.
All that is racing in my mind is to catch her, to hold her, to love but no matter how close I am to her she seems to put some distance between us.
As if silently telling me I am unworthy of her, she so effortlessly, clings onto the hands of others and smiles at me when I see her do so.
And maybe just
Maybe
A jealousy fills my heart, but it can only last a few minutes before I let it go.
I've stopped running after her.
It was no use from the beginning, why would she run if she thought I was worthy of her?
Maybe I wasn't.
Maybe I'm not.
I've given up, but I can't help feeling as if my legs are too long to move at a faster rate in order to catch her trying.
Sometimes she comes around but for a minute, only to whisper lies in my ears.
And for a minute I believe her.
So I hesitantly let my fingers graze her arms.
No not, not ever, maybe another time.
I let my fingers fall.
Love feels like it's at the tip of my tongue, like the word I know but can't quite get.
I never got that word.
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