spit it out

it is exhausting
the holding back

the not saying it

that thing sitting
on the edge of
my tongue

before the hello
after the goodbye

that thing waiting
to be said, to be
set free, to be
released into
the infinite chaos

that sits beyond
the moment
of me looking at
you, an arm’s
length between
us, and saying
that my quiet
subterranean
desire has reached
the point of
eruption

naturally, such
things can only
be held back
for so long
before there
is an explosion.

however,

today,
i am as
tired as
yesterday
and less so.

today,
i am a
swath of
slow-moving lava

oozing forth,
cooling by
small degrees

moving
gently, gently

avoiding
too much
destruction

destined to
cool in my
path,

different
but vaguely
the same.

So when I
see you later
and we are
an arm’s length
apart

and then when
we are closer,
embracing,

do not worry

you will be
safe from my
burning.