Reluctant Love Poem

I’m afraid to write a love poem.
I don’t want to write one.
There’s too much to say, too much to feel, too much to express — I might get it wrong.

And also, I don’t want to share how I feel about him with you guys anyways.
That’s private, you know?

I mean, what would you think if I told you I loved the way his lips feel against mine,
The way his eyes feel when they were focused on me,
The way I feel when he’s not there.

I’d feel too awkward to tell you about that.

It would be too weird for me to write a poem about the bonfire that burns in my chest when someone says his name.
Or the mountain I climbed because he believed I could.
Or the the time he made me laugh so hard I never thought I’d need to laugh again.

SO, I think it’s safer if I just don’t tell you about the time he sat next to me and I swear I had to clutch my hands to my chest so he wouldn’t hear my heart sing.

Instead, I’ll write a poem about courage —
About finding the courage to tell you guys how much I love him.
Because, if I can tell you, then maybe I’ll be able to tell him, too.