I Want To Tell You

I want to tell you
how blue the sea seems on my way home
because I thought you’d want to hear me try to
think of other words for blue.

I want to tell you
how many children told me
they loved me today

and watch as you match it
without words, as I ache.

I want to tell you
that I’m a terrible poet
a peculiar kind of plug,
sad + electric.

I want to tell you about splinters

I am scared you will feel them soon,
as you
run your finger against my love.

I want to tell you about my years in the dark. Withholding
feels like lying and I do not want you
to fall in love with a blank.

I want to tell you
if I believe in a God.

I want to tell you
I have pre-empted the space
in my weekends, after I
have filled you in

and been emptied, simultaneously.

I want to tell you
there is so much I want to tell you

like: this started as a love poem.

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About fiercemissc

Twenty-something Geordie girl living and working in Hong Kong. Young, free and single and making the most of it.
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