I could tell you that I love you
I could
but I won’t.

I won’t leap the first step
an inch closer to desperation
and dark five am
water on skin
glass breaking far off
running away.

words are easy,
silver glazed syllables
falling from quirked lips
dripping along and covering wounds
then ripping apart, stinging
pain and pain
and black nothingness
caring too much, not enough
because it was easy.

I could tell you that I love you

it would be a lie.