Novembe 30/30 - 8/30 - Love Poem

The last twitter of a dying bird. The diaries of teenagers long dead. These are what my words become when trying to capture your essence. You extradite my diction. Gone is the flattering tongue. Justice is a concept too elusive to my questing mouth. Language, my constant house, lies suddenly abandoned. It is silent here as I fail to encompass what I see when I see you. There is not one single straight line on a human body, you remind me, but that it just the beginning.

Definitions crowd to the forefront of the concert when it comes to expounding the deep glitter of the cave of your eyes where I hibernate during this long winter. A thesaurus sticks it’s hand straight up eagerly at the back of the class to help with the sweep of your laugh, your tickling lashes, the jut and joining of you, the length and points of you, the glorious bends of you….

Though I lose myself there, that is not where I lose my way.

I lose my language against the mind and soul of you. The you that makes you more than flesh. The you that led thinkers to the conclusion that there must be a spirit. The you that is not what your body is made from. The invisible parts of you that animate your body in ways that no one else can mimic.

I cannot describe what is merely obvious. This is the mystery and majesty of love.




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