Confessions

I wanted to write a sonnet today,
A poem to try and make something quite clear.
Something to say what I wanted to say—
Have been wanting to say— to you, my dear.

Yet courage is hard to come by right now,
When I’ve hinged too much of me upon you.
And sadly I must to cowardice bow.
Tomorrow, perhaps, I’ll say what is true.

Yet I will not (therefore don’t expect it),
For I do not wish to change what will come.
I’ll leave the present where e’er it should sit,
And hope that our hearts do not become numb.

Should the sun never rise to see the sky,
I suppose I’ll have missed a chance gone by.