Sometimes I am quiet around you. Not because I’m sad, No. I’m afraid. I’m afraid that if I start to talk, I won’t be able to stop, and I’m afraid that I’ll say all of the things I’m not supposed to say and reveal all of the things that I promised I wouldn’t. Because I’m not supposed to feel this way, and you are not supposed to know. I sit in silence, giving you a closed-lip smile every so often to reassure you that I’m alright. I know you worry. I just can’t open my mouth or I may tell you how beautiful you look tonight. I just can’t open my mouth, or I may tell you that you invade my every thought throughout the day. I just can’t open my mouth, or I may tell you that I love you, love you more than you think I do. So I smile, mouth closed. And I go home, and I sob into the sheets of paper, because you are the subject of everything I write, despite how desperately I try to stop it - to stop all of this. Your name floods my mind and flows out with the ink, and it is out of my control.
I can’t stop it.
(via sinfulessentials)
