Monday, August 31, 2015

I Can't Write About You

I can't write about you.
There isn't a single word in the English language that is good enough to describe how the entire world lights up when you smile...
...or how the sunlight intensifies the auburn of your beard...
...or how enchanting I find every freckle that adorns your face.

I can't write about you.
The way I feel when you take my hand, twining my fingers with yours,
and when you put your arm around me, with a hand resting on my hip,
It feels too much like a kind of home I've always longed for.
Words are completely inadequate when it come to the joy and terror that realization brings.

I can't write about you.
How could mere words convey the healing I feel in my broken soul when you pull me tight against you when we sleep. 
You can't string together words in a way that would come anywhere near capable of expressing the desire that rages through me when we kiss.

I can't write about you...
because in the past all of my writing has been motivated by pain.
I've only known what it's like to be someone's dirty secret, their rebound, the girl it's okay to play with until someone better comes along.

I can't write about you...
...because I'm not used to being happy, or not having to guess if someone cares for me.   I'm not used to someone wanting to be seen with me in public, or spending an entire day with me.

I can't write about you
because I love you, and not a single solitary word in existence is worthy enough to define the incredible man that you are.

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