Words fail me—
when I think of you.
How to explain—
or how to describe—
in even the slightest
I haven’t a clue.
Perhaps to say that butterflies
have taken home inside me—
would start the physical feeling
but not the rest, not in the least.
Perhaps I’d say that endless forests
are growing in the deep of a vicious sea.
I know at times—
far more than not—
I falter at affection—
I fail to receive.
And though the words are on my mind
they, at the tip of my tongue, are caught.
Perhaps you’ll be patient enough,
to let me learn to speak—
when thoughts build up and
words are many more than said.
and time runs low because
my voice is far too weak.
To begin to describe
the courage I had not before
is far less complex
than picking a single word
to describe my interest in you—
but still I am unsure.
The sun rises and it sets
without haste or care—
it pays no mind to the colour it paints
across the endless skies,
but of it’s beauty, so effortless—
there is very little to compare.