How I love to write about you, but I don’t .
Not because I lack the skill…or time, I have both in plenty as a matter of fact.
But because each time I try to write about you…
I can’t help but feel every word is an understatement.
There are no words , known by man that are deep enough, profound enough or vast enough that allow me to describe you and what I feel inclusively , conclusively and exclusively.
if I’m being honest, you inspire me to invent a language of my own,
one which lovers who have loved and love can understand and feel justified by.
How I love to think about you,
how the thought of you is ever so close,
never fades..
as if.. the part of me that is you..
ever so waters the garden upon which we planted the seeds of thought,
that sprout into beautiful ever living memories.
How I love to see you,
oooh…to just look at you,
I close my eyes, and as if you were tattooed inside my eyelids,
I can see an image of you.
and the fire that burns inside me for you lights up and it is almost as if
just almost…
I can see you smile,
How I love to hear your voice,
to just hear you speak,
sometimes, yes, sometimes
I can hear it in the wind.
and sometimes, if not all the time, my heart plays it and almost…
just almost, as if I can hear you say, “HI”
such simple words, but coming from a voice that is yours,
they awaken every fiber of my being to form a perfect symphony that sings,

How I love to hold your hands,
so I stretch my palms, ready to meet yours.
but all I feel is empty emptiness
and you My Love are and could be many things,
but empty is not one of them.
so I withdraw my palms…
Not out of shame, love knows no shame,
and I as a matter of fact ever so helplessly and hopelessly ricochet between loving you and loving you.

But I still carry my torch for you, with no shame…
But I do think it is such a shame, that these words I write and speak
your eyes may never see,
nor your ears ever hear.