i fell in love with a writer

There's a present hurt in my chest
a fragile place to make a nest
& shelter my hopes flying outwards
with a beat i have doubt towards
A vulnerability I forget every time
arising when the love climbs

You tell me:
"I don't always say the right thing"
but I'm thinking of songs we sing,
funny faces you make at me
a private parade for us to be.

I'm thinking about no words at all,
when we met at at the end of fall
waved your hand out the car door
said you would sleep on my floor

I'm thinking about quiet comfort
an understanding of some sort
that what we want is me and you
that this was what we both knew

You tell me:
"I dont always have the right words to say"
but I read something you wrote the other day
and it told me otherwise
it told me more than you realize