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.