Why Did I Have to be Right?

When you asked me why I loved you, I was afraid to answer.

You asked it four times before we made it down the street to my house:

"So why me?"

I just smiled and looked at you as you drove-

I noticed how your jaw was interrupted by the stubble on your cheek,

I noticed how your hair fell behind your ear,

And I noticed how I never liked brown eyes until I saw yours-

I'm not sure if it was that I didn't want to tell you or more of I didn't know how to say the words that I wanted to in a way that would sound lovely enough to describe a person as beautiful as you.

I didn't tell you: that I love you because the first time you talked to me I felt like I wasn't desperately trying to grab for the words to respond, they just came.

I didn't tell you: that I love you because when I heard the way you laugh, I knew that I wanted that sound in my life.

I didn't tell you: that I love you because when I'm with you every minute feels like a second and I would rewind every clock if it meant I could steal more.

I didn't tell you: that I love you because even though when the skin of your fingertips touched my own and it felt like my whole world was crumbling around me, I still somehow felt safe.

I didn't tell you: that I love you because you make my world have color and since I met you the trees are green, and red, and orange and the sky was blue, and purple, and pink. 

Still, it was only the second most beautiful thing I've ever saw. 

I didn't tell you that I love you, though looking back I know I should have. 

Then again, it may have sounded like a dying "Hail Mary."

Truth is, I didn't tell you I love you because I was afraid to say a word because I knew how much it would hurt when I found out you didn't feel the way...

and damn, was I right.