It's not that I love you.
It's not that I miss you.
It's that I want to tell you
That my heart breaks with the beauty of splayed twigs reaching up towards the redning sky.
It's that I want to tell you
That the last drops of summer are drawing near, spinning golden afternoons weighted with nostalgia.
It's that I want to tell you
How I see the world; my reality exploding with possibilities for us
It's that every time I hold myself back
Rather than throw my sole at your feet with words.