I’ve tried writing about you again,
And I hated everything I wrote.
None of it did your eyes or your smile,
Or the poetic sound of your laughter justice.
I couldn’t describe the way your gold hair cascades over your soft shoulders,
Like a jar of honey over a marble countertop.
Or the way your hands send shocks through my body
Like a defibrillator bringing me back to life.
Maybe there just aren’t words to describe the ones you love.
Maybe there’s just feeling, and eye-contact,
Because your smile says more to me than any number of words
That I could possibly pack into the margins of a piece of paper.
Maybe there’s just loss.
Looking into your eyes when they flash with anger
And feeling like I’ve carved a loose raft from the trunks of my thoughts,
And now I have to weather a beautiful storm.
Maybe there’s just arrhythmia,
Like my heart feels upon seeing you.
Skipped beats in moments that flash past
Faster than my heart could possibly beat anyways.
And that half-second before I stutter out your name in awe?
Maybe that’s a good indicator
Of how words stop having definitions as time passes,
And dictionaries become only the most ironic of paper-weights.
Maybe language was only invented by chance,
By someone who had never seen real beauty before.
By someone who has never felt so connected
That silence seemed more appropriate
Than any noise their larynx could produce.
I thought that maybe, somebody could find new words,
I’ve already seen them all.
Then, I saw you,
And words appeared to me like visions in the darkness I didn’t rest in,
Aligning and re-aligning;
Trying to join together
To make something half as beautiful when connected
As the connection our eyes made
In the split-second you looked my way
And took my breath away.
But, no, they couldn’t,
And I realized I couldn’t find anything else to say.