Can you believe the words I am saying?
Can you see the quantity of the poetry in my books and binders?
Trying to read the ink on my palms,
smudged from rubbing my hands together,
a shy reaction when your eyes are on me.
Pens laying abandoned,
useless now with no ink left,
Your vision in my mind led them to their death.

My dear,
Do you know what you are?

You are...
What paint wishes to depict on canvases,
What pencil lead smears and blends to be,
What words will never be able to describe,
What millions of a thousand word photos will never be able to tell,
Where steps in a dance can only dream of being so graceful,
Where no amount of melodies or voice can raise a lighter like yours,

You are
Inspiration in it's most perfect human form.
Next to you
Words flow freely,
All trying to get onto paper and claim the right of
Speaking of you.
I can't seem to get them out fast enough.
Adjectives,
Phrases,
Sentences,
Paragraphs.
Posted everywhere.
On notebooks, loose leaf and hands.
Written in everything from Crayon to highlighters.
This is my Juliet's Sonnet.
One that will never be able to say enough.
And as long as you stay; will never run out.

My Inspiration.