Not Yet

It isn't when my sides are aching and tears from laughing are dripping down my cheeks that the words fight to get out. They only struggle a little, then. It isn't when your dark eyes melt and stir the butterflies within my stomach, either. It isn't when my eyes sting and your smile is so beautiful my heart constricts and my breath is stolen. It isn't when it's 1 AM. and I've picked a fight simply because I crave your presence and we're both in desperate tears. It isn't when I've blown fifty kisses and blushed with each one. Nor is it when I'm hiding my face and I know you're laughing. It was almost when it was 10 P.M. and your eyes ran out of salt and regret, and when my arms burned with the need to hold you close. It was almost when you lost your shit on those raiders in your base, though I had no idea the words were even growing. It was almost when you asked about my alters and the way you waited kindly for my return, and when you treated them like people. It got close when you left for the camp and it felt like me heart was full of knives. God, the words were in my throat. And it got closer when at 6 A.M. I couldn't sleep, and you were there for me. The words stuck to the roof of my mouth. I have never had to fight so hard as I do when your eyes look blank and you're telling me that you feel as though these words don't burn my heart. I have never had to bite my tongue and nearly taste the blood as I do when your eyes become dark and full of nothing. But none of those come close to how hard I have to grip this pencil so I can smother the damn words again.