I'm ready.
I always think that,
"this will be the day,
I tell him,
I love him."
Yet.
Every day,
when he smiles at me
so obliviously,
my throat closes up,
and my mind goes blank.
I wish upon a star,
he would love me back,
and we would grow up together.
We would hold hands,
through the hard times.
We would laugh,
through the good times.
I would hold him
closely
every day
to see if he was still real.
"I love you,"
would confidentially leave my lips,
once so frozen,
and stiff like cardboard.
My mouth tastes like truth
as I tremble before you.
Your gaze
is so cold,
but it's familiar.
I sink beneath your feet,
and you grab my hand
tightly.
"Stay with me,"
I smile at your words,
and release your hand.
It's warmth
is burned in my memories.
Fire strays under my tears,
as I drift into Hell,
smiling at your fading reflection.
Your grab at the nothing I left behind,
as I drift under molten ashes.
I close my eyes,
and wish upon a star,
that you love me back.
I wish,
I had told you,
that I was ready
to say I love you.