If there is anything I hate, it is this awareness. This consciousness of how thoughts—perfectly pure, fluid, succinct, and coherent in my head—freeze up into a confused flux somewhere along their way to my voice box, the awareness of syllables clogging up at my throat. My tongue gets heavy and it is much less painful to just disconnect that mess from my brain and let it float unuttered in a nameless, placeless ocean; islands let adrift. Unfortunately, I am fast running out of ocean...

I want to say thousands of things to you. Beyond what I do. God only knows where I am even going to find the ether to say them, given that I am wont to filling up all the static that is ever to be found between us. It is a shame that more important, real things end up being compromised. There has never been a suitable moment to say how much that smile means to me. Or to explain why your eyes look so blue. My chest tightens when I wonder how I am ever going to express my adoration for all things innocent, loveable, simple, and clean. You think I have no fears. I want to tell you that when fears turn real, they become something else. Something more scary, something less worrisome. But there is never a right moment to say all this.

In a world where cities devour people and imitation love is celebrated, you managed to slice your way through. And my plight is that I can't even say what it means to me. You say I am your pillar, your grounding stone. Some day, when I find words good enough, I am going to tell you the difference between a pillar and a scaffold.

Kisses turn to poison and engines sputter to a halt, babe. And while tonight you don't look any more hurtful than a fawn, I am still going to pray. I am too old to tell you I will make everything alright; but I am also young enough to tell you there is nothing I won't do for you. While you can put me down for any number of things, you can't fault where my heart's at. With any luck, from my side, I will end up never hurting you.

So on this all-too-familiar day, when my words won't yield, my diction has gone into hiding, and even my finger tips are almost refusing to oblige, all I can do is close my eyes and believe there will be a right moment, on a better day. And when I come up with the words, maybe you'll still have good use for them…