The Word is Not in My Vocabulary
It’s a verb,
Specifically, a state of being.
It is not a noun,
Like infatuation
Or adoration,
But it has the same connotation.
It is a feeling,
But I am actively subjected to it,
Like existence.
I wake up,
And I know how very far away you are.
I am doomed to wonder
How many steps
It would take
To make you sing that stupid song with me,
To laugh with me
Over a cup of Sunday coffee
And a beat up speaker.
I have this word, this feeling,
Towards you.
It so obsessively compels me,
That I must steal glances when you light up,
When you casually ask about my day,
When I have inexplicably
Poured my heart into a glass
And shoved it over to you
And apologized for taking up all the sound in the room.
I am a quiet person
Until you look at me.
Oh I could talk forever
If it kept you looking at me.
Have I told you that your eyes are most beautiful
When you’re sleepy?
When you put no strain on them
And let your head tilt ever so slightly?
You look so kind when you’re like that -
I know it’s exhaustion and I’m sorry for that.
It’s selfish of me to like this.
You.
Closeness.
I don’t know what this word is,
But I am stuck in it
And maybe it is a noun after all,
Because I am vehemently running away from it,
Rather than indulging -
I can’t.
I won’t.
I am far too venomous and pitiful;
I am not in the situation you need;
I am not a situation you need.
I acknowledge all this and still
I am filled -
I am existing -
In this unknown word.
It is much like love, I think;
Gentle, patient, kind, or whatever that stupid list is.
Yet, it is also
A stupid,
Vapid,
Incorrigible and unhealthy feeling.
I hope against fear
And fear to hope
That it will
One day
Fade.
For this is not
Something
Worth
Naming.
Not if it could hurt you.
- Shae Saltgrave













