Timid Children

Here you are.
In my book you're nothing but a pen and paper
Nothing here but a hundred pages
of hyperbolic rants
and fancy words that
do no justice
to your face
or what I think when I hear your name.

And it hurts me every time we talk
My brain says "no"
But my heart is screaming in my ear "PLEASE SAY SOMETHING.
For us.
For me."

No matter what I do
When those four words
prepare in the back of my throut
for the embark to you
I can't pull them out.
Can't coax them from their hiding spot
on the left side of my chest
right beside their mother.
You may never see the timid children
of my heart.