Hello—it’s such an ordinary word,
Harbouring hundreds of stories unheard,
It’s the beginning of an imperfect friendship,
Or the start of a hating war you can’t skip.

Hello—it’s such an ordinary word,
Yet saying it to you feels somewhat absurd,
Because it is what I’d say to a stranger on the streets,
Not to somebody who alters the way my heart beats.

Hello—it’s such an ordinary word,
Yet I often forget it like my email password,
All because I can’t force myself to break these walls,
These walls that seemingly protect me from falls.

Hello—it’s such an ordinary word,
So ordinary, it’s a baby’s third,
Then why does it never make past my throat?
And why can’t it make beyond this note?

Hello—it’s such an ordinary word,
Then why do I avoid it like it’s a cussword?
There’s hundreds of others I could employ instead,
But around you, even those, I dread.

Hello—it’s such an ordinary word,
I’ve said it a million times, maybe you just haven’t heard,
Or maybe I never uttered it around you,
In fears of having you see through.

Hello—it’s seems like an ordinary word,
But it is not when it is deferred,
So maybe I’ll use it once I know for sure,
How I am supposed to use a word so demure.