Unable

Why can I not write?
Poetry once flew from my mind to my pen,
The most complex emotions creating the most intriguing of rhythms,
The intricacies of feelings laid bare by written word.
Why can I not write?
For to simply say “I love you” cannot fully encompass the depth of its meaning,
The simple phrase not saying what I wish to.
The phrase itself has been spoken so often as to be rendered meaningless,
And that is one conclusion that it cannot be translated as.

But, why can I not write?
Before the poetry was of my suffering in love-
And, to be sure, suffering will be involved,
My heart once more torn from me,
And allow me to say I will gladly be shed of it.

Now, however- how can I explain, how can I describe
The feel of your hand in mine;
The way they seem to be fit for one another?
How I can lose myself in your eyes,
Can be content for hours just looking into your face.
The unfettered kindness in your embrace-

But this has all been written before!
Why can I not write?

To be sure, all is true
To hold your hand is to hold that of a goddess,
To look at you is to behold the curve of eternity
But how do I write it to explain it?

The way your smile lights my day
The way I miss you seconds after leaving
The way I relish in making you laugh,
or when your hand reaches for mine.

How do I explain it?
Once I was able to tease poetry from mere shadows of emotion,
Now that it is so much stronger it is almost too difficult to bear-
Too express my love I feel originality is key-
It is exactly the uniqueness of it that makes it what it is.

It is the willingness to die- not only to save you but to save your happiness.
It is the willingness to experience a most acute loss, if only to be with you a short time.
It is the willingness to risk my heart and my very breath for you, and you alone.

I cannot resign myself to that most simple of phrases,
The “I love you” that leaves so many lips without meaning
I try in vain to write it down, but my mind is distracted by your beauty,
The memory of your face derailing my thoughts.

One cannot help but wonder what it is you see in such as me,
What would drive you, one so above other mortals to have any desire to be with me.
Do you not know, a goddess is not meant to even notice a mere mortal?

Love has tormented me for so long, why now a reprieve?

But so long have I yearned for happiness, so long to be loved

I can scarce believe it each time you sit down next to me,
Every moment in your presence taking my breath away;
Making me both weaker and stronger.

Why can I not write?

I feel none of this is good enough
Nothing I can write is worthy of the emotion
I cannot help but to succumb to
Every time you glance at me.

Nothing I can write is worthy of you, who in my eyes is peerless in every way.
No imagery I can create can sufficiently capture your beauty,
Your appearance defying even the most supple of poetic cadence.

And nothing I can write can even begin to describe my love for you.
Such a feeling is not meant to be expressed through mere words on a page.
Such a love is not meant to be put into phrases and clauses.

I hope you can understand.