Unsaid

I look at you.
I feel the clock ticking.
I act clumsy, I say superficial things.
I feel the air around me, as if it also is expecting.
I search my mind for the perfect words.
I feel my blood flowing, humming the passage of time.
I give up.

I would have said a thousand words more, and still, it would not have been enough.

So that that can not be described, that that is too big for human words, that that has had me floating in a storm like the dead leaf of a weak tree, that that has turned me into a clumsy superficial fool when I look at you...

That has remained unsaid.