If I pour
my heart
my soul
myself
into these words,
will the accumulation
of my work
become the embodiment
of how I feel
and thus
keep you here?
Will these
little
pieces
of me
speak sincere
from the heart
of the heart,
and of the matters
it holds dear?
Or will these parts
when taken whole
within
your hands
your eyes
yourself
betray my intentions
and abandon these
emotions I have for you
to die misunderstood,
a volume
of inaudible
I-love-you's
lost to
the noise
of words
left unused?
Copyright 2004, 2010 by T.J. Blackburn