Nate

Sometimes I just
want to give up my writing.
Because his words are the ones
that my hands can't quite type up.
That my mouth can't quite find.
That my pen can't quite reach.
He speaks to my heart
and it's soft spots and
I am speechless.
He's got so much in him.
So many endless words.
So much endless love.
It's almost like sometimes,
he knows every piece of me
that I've tried to forget.
But he doesn't.
Does he even know me at all?
And do I...?