the notes within my journal

Oh, how I long
For a tête-à-tête
With her.

Oh, how scared I am
For a tête-à-tête
With her.
For I know there will be words I cannot fathom,
Thoughts that can never be set,
Leaving me in a stir.
To her, I have nothing to bestow;
A tête-à-tête with her
Will leave me in ruin by night.

Oh, how loved I am
For a tête-à-tête
Beside her.
For I know I would nudge her arm
As I brush against her silhouette,
Leaving me in a stir.
And she would finally know
A glimpse of us, where I would kiss her
And give her the smile I’d never shown.

Oh, how frayed I am
For a tête-à-tête.
Yet I will cry,
And wipe her tears away,
And hold her close.
For I have changed;
For I have learned a life of laughter and innocence
Where she could not
Where she was an innocent fool.

Oh, how at rest I am
For a tête-à-tête
With her.