"You can tell me anything" you said
As I sat in your car for too long on a Saturday
My logic shushed the words back
before they fluttered out
Maybe I could tell you anything
But I'm not certain you'd want to hear what I'm thinking
Because my eyes and thoughts stray often to your lips
And if my voice isn’t music to you like yours is to me
Then you might plug your ears and turn away
and how could I bear to dam the cacophonous river of our friendship?
What else could quench my thirst
for the brush of your hand on my arm
painting a masterpiece under lazy fingertips?
Who else could strip my skin and see
the ugly workings underneath and still
dare to call them beautiful?
What if you stopped thinking I was beautiful?

“You can tell me anything”, you said
As I sat too long in your car on a Saturday
And I could’ve been brave,
I could’ve believed,
I could’ve told you everything,
But the “I love you” never came.