There are words within me
that flow through keys into music,
or ink into paper,
when I write the ballads of sadness and love
that are contained inside my head,
yet nothing comes to my tongue
when I stand in front of you.
I have never been verbal,
one of the poets who stands
and speaks their beauty to others, tongues
of silk weaving their words into impermanent art
that will soon be forgotten.
Instead, I write poetry
which your eyes will never see
in the hopes that I will find a way
of saying how you make me feel inside.
The way you capture me
and manage to see me as an entirely new being.
The way you make my laugh permanent
with a single image, childish and playful.
The way you are so unapologetically you.

All of it.

I want something just like this,
I want everything like this,
and I don't know how to say it.