You looked at me.
A train careered through the cerebral station. The words, who until that point had been waiting patiently in line, were too close to the edge. Sucked into the air stream and crushed unceremoniously beneath the grinding, metallic wheels.
Damn.
I tried to explain, but I couldn’t.
You spoke to me.
I grasped at your words, snatching them from the balmy air, desperately trying to take them and assemble them for my own, personal use. But in the confusion they slipped through my fingers. Gone.
Shit.
I tried to explain, but I couldn’t.
You touched my hand.
Hazy, shimmering shoals of adjectives swam into my consciousness. Excitedly, I caught one and held it close. At last! But it wriggled free and shot off into the abyss.
Fuck.
I tried to explain, but I couldn’t.
You turned away.
Clarity came hurtling out of the darkness, crashing into my vocabulary with force of a Pacific tsunami. There were the words I’d been longing for, ready now, poised for action.
I love you!
Too late.
I did try to explain, but I couldn’t.
