Why
Do my fingers
Find its way
To grasp pens and scribble
Endless adjectives on paper
Until I drain the ink out
And fill all my notebooks with lead
Striving to describe your immaculacy?

Why
Do my fingers
Run their tips across
The keyboard of letters
Pressing out the syllables
Forming verbs and nouns
Struggling to define how much of my heart you hold?

Why
Does my heart
Find harmony in wasting my time
Pondering, writing, loving, day dreaming
The perfection you have become?

Why
Is only all I ever asked myself
But I have never wondered;
How I manage to make the simplest of words
Sound so exquisite
Whenever my hands
Scribble and scribble endlessly
About you

Forever asking the Why’s
And never asking the How’s
The How’s that prove
My own worth along with yours