We exchanged out favourite words;
mine being “illuminated” and yours being “caddywhompus.”;
and our least favourites, mine “moist,” and yours “almost.”
And when I asked you why, you said that almost held failed potential.
That it represented our ability to be just not good enough.
That we had come to the brink of something beautiful,
but fell short so many times, we crafted a word for it.
But even we, with our supposed mastery of the English language,
were not immune to the shortcomings of our vocabularies.
Words can only help you if you speak them.
I never told you that I loved you.
You never told me you were dying.