I always thought
if I said it first
in my head
it would all come out.
Instead I write
here in your room
and you in the next
about all I think.
I want to tell you
how I feel
and what it did to me
when you spoke those words.
Meaningless and empty
your words and me
so insignificant
it doesn’t matter.
Still I sit here
alone and crying
wishing I could tell you
how you made me feel.
