If/when

I nearly said it the other night.

And maybe again this morning

Why does it feel like words might slip

Do I feel it?

Because I think its just a reflex,

conditioning:

This is what you say now.

A sort of triggered response to a feeling

Not that feeling.

But something like it

Or a memory

Of thinking I knew what knowing was

before.

I nearly said it

But I didn’t.

Aren’t you impressed

at the restraint shown by someone who emits continuous word projectiles at you

like an endless freight train,

clunky loaded cargo

smashing straight into your personal space?

I nearly said it

but I don’t want to rush

Because that’s what I do

And you say

it’s what you do.

And so inevitably, it’s what we’ve done.

But let this bit

be the contradiction.

I’ve said it before

Given in to words circulating in my head

Before I knew what I was saying

Before I could be sure.

I nearly said it this morning

But I didn’t.

Because they aren’t just words

And it doesn’t just happen, does it?

One day

You don’t just wake up and…

Today is the day.

Yesterday, it was something else

Today, it’s that.

It’s not a switch turned on

Is it?

Isn’t it supposed to be a slow burn?

a delicate

lingering feeling

that grows.

But

It’s not like there isn’t a place for the untethered manic excitement

That spills out

And makes me giddy

Then scared

and acting silly

because feelings don’t leave space to listen to needs.

Then I’m awkward

because I can’t keep quiet

I lay myself bare. Keep nothing just for me.

Then I’m giddy again.

manic, excited

overwhelmed.

That’s part of it…

isn’t it?

I thought that was part of it.

But then it’s slow

and you find your own smile

isn’t where you left it: out there,

reserved for everyone else.

Suddenly it appears on your face

when alone in a room.

Those words

they creep up on you.

Like you do

hiding under my washing.

Beady eyes peering out of the darkness,

Waiting to catch mine.

Boo!

So it’s jumpy

It’s scary

It’s giddy.

It’s a mistimed connection

A bruised heart full of questions

unravelling then opening slow.

Then it’s quiet

And one day there’s comfort.

A lot of laughing.

Then a warm glow.

Isn’t that the way it goes?

Did I used to think that saying those words were a way to claim someone,

to make them stay?

Hindsight makes me think that I knew all along:

The feeling I was feeling wasn’t loving, but needing someone

needing distractions

But lust and loneliness shout louder than doubts

so they are quietened, until just a whisper

And then I let those words slip out

Before I know.

Or is it that I already knew I didn’t?

So then I quietly talked myself into loving them later.

And much as everything I do is still accidentally spontaneous, chaotic, rushed, late. Full of mistimed, misjudged silly mistakes.

Let this not knowing, but knowing I’ll fall linger.

Let us take the fast bit slow

Let me say nothing

Until I know

Or nothing

Until later.

Let this be the time I wait

Because not saying it

Is the best way

of knowing I will love you

if/when I love you

And this time

I think it’s ok

to be late.