You grabbed my hand,

you asked me why,

And I didn’t speak.

When asked if I would answer

I stuttered.

You wanted an answer.

You wanted me to speak,

And It wasn’t a question of why, but when.

A question of how I would react

When you were gone.

I didn’t know.

You asked me why I couldn’t tell you,

Why my nonchalance and indifference plagued our conversations:

Because I will not break your heart.

So the real question, it seemed, would always remain: cannot, or will not?