His Way with Words

No sudden movement.
He just, sat there.
No smile, not an agitated attempt, but no affection.
Nothing.
His eyes burned a whole straight through me as I wholeheartedly tried to ignore the sudden pain.
I approached him, demanded an answer for his staring
Politely, I couldn't yell at him
Not him
But no words were spoken
A written letter was a substitute, for his voice
I opened it, in front of him
No movement
It couldn’t be something bad then, but I’m beginning to think he’s a statue
It just might be bad
Unfold, unfold, unfold
Eight, perfect, squares
Perfect
That’s all there was
Eight, perfect squares
No words
I slowly look up at him
And again, he stares
“I’m not well with words” he says
No response, I just listen.
“How, do you write “I love you”?”
My heart. My beating heart.
He held out a pencil
And I had the paper
Pause
I begin writing
One more quick glance back at him, and I continue
I, L-O-V-E, Y-O-U
I shook with the paper in my hand
So silent, but nice
He wistfully took it
I stared
The paper ripped, to shreds
Single handedly, my heart was torn as well
I look away, fighting tears
I should leave now.
No movement, nothing but his eyes
Yes, I think I should
“It’s not what is written that matters”
Listen to him
“But the strength to tell it to their face...
to bad I don’t have the strength to”
His immediate smile, it filled me
And my smile, lightened him
His radiant face, beautiful
I love him too
To bad I don’t have the strength to tell him either