The Words I couldn’t say

The Words I Couldn’t Say

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He never thought that he could fall,

For love had never called at all.

He’d built his walls, he’d locked each door,

And dared not ask for something more.

 

He’d learned to keep his thoughts concealed,

To hide the things he never healed.

A smile, a laugh, a quiet face,

A heart that kept its guarded place.

 

But then she came, and something changed,

The world he’d known felt rearranged.

He noticed things he’d passed before,

And found himself still wanting more.

 

The way she’d laugh, the way she’d speak,

The little things he’d come to seek.

The way she’d turn to catch his eye,

The way her smile could calm the sky.

 

He’d think of her throughout the day,

And find new things he wished to say.

He’d look ahead, and, strange to him,

Tomorrow didn’t seem so dim.

 

So he began to write her lines,

Of endless stars and grand designs.

 

“I’d steal the moon from midnight skies,

And place its silver in your eyes.

I’d catch the stars before they fall,

And give you every one of all.”

 

But something in the words felt wrong,

Too grand, too rehearsed, too much a song.

For though the words were sweet and true,

They said so little of what he knew.

 

He tried again, with softer art,

And wrote of what she meant to his heart.

 

“If I could live a thousand years,

I’d spend them all with you, my dear.

And if the years should disappear,

I’d find you in another year.”

 

He read it twice, then set it down,

Another borrowed, golden crown.

For what was time, or years, or fate,

If all he did was make her wait?

 

He tried a third, a promise deep,

The kind a man is meant to keep.

 

“I’ll never let you know a day

Where all your worries have their say.

I’ll be your shelter from the rain,

Your quiet after every pain.”

 

But he knew life could not be kind,

Nor could he promise peace of mind.

He couldn’t swear she’d never cry,

Or keep the storms from passing by.

 

He wanted words that would not bend,

A truth that time could not unfriend.

Not something beautiful to hear,

But something he could hold sincere.

 

He thought of all the things he’d planned,

Of perfect words and flowers in hand.

Yet every line he’d tried to write

Could not quite bring his heart to light.

 

Until one evening, soft and still,

She spoke the words he couldn’t fill.

 

“I love you,” she said, and there he stood,

With all the words he’d understood.

He’d practised every line he’d made,

Yet none would come; they all would fade.

 

He wanted stars, he wanted skies,

A thousand poems, grand replies.

But none could hold what he had found,

No perfect verse could hold the ground.

 

So he took her hand, and looked above,

Then back at her, the one he’d loved.

 

“I’ll live for you.”

 

No stars to steal, no skies to claim,

No pretty words, no grand refrain.

Just something honest, something true,

A life he wished to share with you.

 

Not that the dark would disappear,

Or that he’d never know a fear.

Not that she’d bear the weight of days,

Or keep all sorrow far away.

 

But there were mornings yet to see,

And places he had yet to be.

There were a thousand things to do,

And so much left to learn with you.

 

He’d see the seasons come and go,

Watch little gardens bloom and grow.

He’d hear her stories, old and new,

And find more things to love in you.

 

For all the lines he’d tried before,

The stars, the skies, the evermore,

Had never quite expressed the truth

Of what he’d found in loving you.

 

He couldn’t promise endless spring,

Or make the world a gentler thing.

But he could choose, through joy and strife,

To keep on choosing this: a life.

 

And when she asked what made him stay,

He’d have no grander words to say.

 

“I’ll live for you.”

 

The words he’d searched for, tried, and knew,

Were never quite the words he drew.

For every line he’d written through,

The truest one was simply true.

 

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아Gㅍ/ Ariana P.