There are a lot of things I can't tell you.
Not because I'm keeping secrets locked behind my teeth or because I'm afraid I'll say something you don't want to hear. This isn't like the last time or the time before. It's simply because I'll never have the exact right words to explain all the ways you make my heart rise and expand and skip a beat.
There aren't enough words to describe how quickly the blood rushes through my veins when we kiss and I'm on tiptoes to reach your lips and your hand is cupping my face, brushing your thumb across my cheekbone and I feel completely at home.
And they haven't even invented a way to portray how I feel when we're driving too fast in the streets of our hometown, and how I can get lost somewhere that is so damn familiar because I have the chance to explore it with someone new someone like you and you're singing along with the radio, letting me fall asleep in the passenger seat, because you and I are enough, and we don't need words to fill the silence in between.
And I can't imagine a way to tell you that I can see a future when I look into your eyes as you're walking me to my door like you do each and every night, promising to drive me seventeen hours and one minute to the coast just because I told you I've never seen an ocean crash along the shoreline. I swear I could drown in moments like these and never complain.
I'm not calling it perfect, but it's the closest I've ever found since when I'm in your arms I can forget the world completely and all the ways it's hurt me. And there are a lot of things I can't tell you, but I'm hoping, wishing and praying that you already know.