love unspoken

If I hated you, I'd give my hatred to you in words, round and sure, but I love you, and my love finds all speech unreliable, obscure. You'd like to hear it shouted out, but coming from so deep, its flood of fire fails and falters before it reaches my breast, my throat. A millpond full to overflowing, I seem to you spring gone dry, and suffer from my wretched silence worse than if I had to die.