My Poem for Him

4

Almost Said

You move like dusk before the rain,
so calm it borders into pain.
A glance, a breath, a fleeting trace —
and still I memorize your face.

You speak in whispers, barely heard,
like every thought's a fragile word.
I hold each sound the way one might
hold fireflies that fear the light.

I asked to draw you — not for fame,
just to preserve your quiet flame.
You sent a heart, then nothing more —
a closed, unread, unknocking door.

And still I wait, like I'm a shore,
hoping your tide will reach once more.
But days drift by, and all I see
is how your silence answers me.

You're not unkind. You're not unfair.
You simply choose not to be there.
A Taurus heart — so firm, so slow,
you never say to stay or go.

And I — a Libra, torn in two,
between the maybes and the true.
Between the "could be" and the "no,"
I hang in limbo, soft and low.

I message you at close of night,
with hands that shake but words polite.
Goodnight, crush — soft as a sigh,
a love that doesn't ask for why.

A month has passed — I'm still unseen,
a ghost inside your glowing screen.
No sign, no step, no gentle clue —
just me, still drawing shapes of you.

How do I end what never starts?
Unwrite the ink, unfeel the parts?
I gave my art, my words, my time —
you gave a pause, a silent rhyme.

So if I'm fading, let me know —
don't leave me wondering where to go.
I'm not afraid of hearing "no" —
just tired of not being told.