I am a lover of words, of prose, of poetry
Something about the way the vowels and consonants create varying
Syllables that ebb and flow, forming something beautifully aureate
I find it compelling, cathartic, yet contradictory
For they can magically depict a feeling, an event, a person
But can never fully emulate the essence of the thing
That they are trying so desperately to encompass
I can write a thousand word essay about you and it wouldn’t even begin
to describe how much you mean to me
I can compose a thousand page anthology about how amazing I think you are,
But it would fail miserably in comparison to how you truly are.
I can say your beguiling demeanor renders me immobile,
But that would not, even in the slightest, represent how incandescent you are to me.
I can try my best to articulate my sentiments, but my efforts are inadequate,
And I sometimes feel like I have alexithymia.
I cannot convey all of my thoughts that surround you, it is simply impossible.
But I will try to break them down, to the microcosm of my consciousness.
And so I’ll begin by saying this:
If I had a penny for every time I met someone as incredible as you,
I would have exactly one cent.
But that is enough, because I don’t need lots of money to be happy
I really only need you.