In seventeen years, my heart's been tied to you,
A love that blossomed, deep and true.
But now I stand, questioning in despair,
Why can't you say those words I long to hear?

With every passing day, I've held on tight,
Loving, caring, expecting, with all my might.
But the silence lingers, and doubts arise,
Did we waste these years in disguise?

What is this man you've become, my dear?
Whose heart seems closed, distant and unclear.
Were all those moments merely a charade,
Leaving my soul longing, betrayed?

I search for answers in the depths of your eyes,
Hoping to find solace, to quell the cries.
But your gaze evades, avoiding my plea,
Leaving me lost, uncertain, incomplete.

Why can't you say the words, "I love you"?
Is it fear that grips your heart, constraining the truth?
Or have those feelings faded over time,
Leaving our love like a forgotten rhyme?

Seventeen years we've shared, side by side,
Yet the unspoken words have become a divide.
I yearn for assurance, a tender embrace,
To feel your love in words, not just in space.

But if these years have taught me one thing,
Love cannot thrive on mere promising.
It needs nourishment, affirmation too,
For "I love you" to become our glue.

So now I stand here, weary and unsure,
Contemplating if our love can endure.
For seventeen years I've held on tight,
But without those words, can love truly ignite?

My heart longs for the truth to break free,
For you to embrace the love that's meant to be.
But until that day arrives, my love, I'll stay,
Hoping you'll find the words, someday.
© Peta-Gay Powell