It kills me that I can't keep you in words,
The more I write the more I seem to miss.
Like meaning from my pen is far off lured,
I can't put down your smile, your eyes, your kiss.
A kiss that for my life I can't describe,
despite how hard I try or oft I write.
Transform me hence into your willing scribe,
I'll work to make dark ink match your eyes light...
and though I know I'll fail I still write on,
hoping beyond hope that I'll succeed
in writing down some truth before I'm gone,
one truth might then find others and so breed.
Not unlike I found you and you found me
or how our I's met up to forge a we.