I Wish I Could Tell You More Than ‘I Miss You’

one night,
i caved in and told you
i missed you
as if telling you
i missed you
was enough to
cure the emptiness in my chest.
as if those three words
could encompass all of
the things
i wanted to say.
as if those three words
are the only three words
i long for you
to hear.

that night,
telling you
i missed you
felt like walking
on the hairline
fracture on my left shoulder.
tiptoeing,
gently,
careful,
too careful
not to say too much,
not to admit any
more than i was ready for,
not to admit
anything you
were not meant to hear.

and i must admit,
that night
my teeth were
painted red, as
my tongue swam
in the metallic
taste of all my
half-hearted attempts
to tell you i am
more than just
missing you.
that you were missing
and my heart
decided to
crave you still.

i was so used
to this,
to me reminding myself
that i shouldn’t say too much
or that i shouldn’t
tell you how i’ve fallen in
too deep.

maybe one night,
i’d forget to remind
myself or that my
tongue would run
faster than my eyes
could blink.
one night my mouth
would slip, and
maybe then,
i’d be able to
tell you more than
just i miss you.