Say It

When you give me that look —

the one where our eyes align
and the black discs in their centre
expand to cover each other,
to occult in an ocular eclipse —

I see your innermost feelings
swirling behind the syzygy.

I levitate from the sheer adoration
in that gaze, wait for the declaration
I know will never come;

when the transit completes
and you jerk your head away,
the whiplash sends me wobbling,
toppling heart-first onto rough
cobbled floors of disappointment.

What are you so afraid of?

No matter how far ahead time vaults
or how fast fickle fashions flit past,
it will never be passé 
to tell a woman
how you feel 
about her

Enough with the vibes.
Open your mouth.
Say it.

If you don’t
and I move on
with someone worthier,
don’t lance me with sharp glances
and gloomy glares
as if I betrayed you;

as if I breached this binding contract
we signed with longing looks
and smouldering stares.

Say it.

Before I lose patience
and fall for another.

Don’t wait till my wedding day
when I’m a bridal march away
from becoming his missus
to spew belated confessions
of undying love.

I’d curse you to forever hold your peace.

This is your last chance.
Take it.
Say it.