i scour lyrics, and i write crazy free verse poems. i search for enough words, the right words. for some insight to try to capture and recreate the way i feel about you. i try to make it tangible, so the words can be tasted on chapped lips and sour tongues. i want to share it with others in a way that makes them dreamy and love-filled. however, nothing i read, nothing i write, and nothing i hear can encompass the way i feel about you, even when it's at its simplest form. i cannot recreate my pulse, my firing synapses, my rising adrenaline and consuming endorphins. i cannot show you what it's like to look into your blue eyes and see my whole world. i cannot replicate in an essay, or a poem, or an email, what it feels like for you to fall asleep next to me, your snores, your breath, like a purr on my skin. i cannot hold you enough, see you enough, tell you enough, show you enough, how much weight your fingers curled around mine carries. i am left with three hollow words, often said and screamed in the least important situations. scribbled on cards, and decimated to near meaninglessness. but i have nothing else. in a white-flag defeat i cannot tell you anything more than i love you. you have to have faith that it is beyond comprehension, beyond words, beyond miles and miles, and time, and barriers. that it is even beyond me and you. you have to believe that packed into eight little symbols lies the entirety of my whole world.

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for my love (all poems were written for him).