He Doesn't Know

I have so many secrets, bursting inside of me. He doesn't know that I love him endlessly. He doesn't know that I was madly in love with him for at least a year before we even started hanging out, outside of work. He has no idea that I dreamt of him for months before I told him I wanted to see him on a regular basis. I've not told him that everything posted to my Wedding board on Pinterest since we got together has been entirely based on him, nothing like the vague shit I was already posting. He doesn't know that we have a theme and I am wearing an emerald green dress to our wedding. He doesn't know that I would consider trying to have a baby in my thirties for him even though it goes completely against my plan to party in my forties when my child from a previous relationship is an adult.

He has never heard me cry. Not my angry cry or my aching cry. He doesn't know what I look like in the shower. He has never seen me puke. Hell, he has never even been in the bathroom when I pee and I've never been in there with him; I'd like to though. He has never heard my most painful memories. He has no idea how my brain and body feel each day, struggling with crippling depression and anxiety. He doesn't know how much I hate my skin. He has no idea how uncomfortable I am with my weight. He has never seen me nearly cry over my saggy breasts and extra flab. He has no idea how much I love it when he lays across me and snuggles me anyway.

He doesn't know that my heart aches for him when he falls asleep next to me. I've never told him that I would move to any corner of the world he wants to. I haven't told him much I adore it when he pulls me close to him. I have never said thank you to him for showing up on time and never making me wonder where he is. He doesn't know that I fall more in love each time he reaches for me in his sleep. I have never told him that I want to learn everything about him. I've never said how much he means to me. He doesn't know that I can't see any other man but him.

He doesn't know that I want to spend every minute that I have left on this Earth with him nearby. He has no idea that nearby isn't close enough. I have never told him that I have daydreamed the rest of our days together. I have envisioned us with family and grandchildren, our own dogs, in a nice house, decorated for us both; he doesn't know. He has never heard how terrified I am to lose him in this life already. He doesn't know that he is my greatest love or that I planned for him to be part of my life so carefully. And he doesn't know that it kills me to keep these things from him.