I reread what I wrote about you last night
And while accurate, it doesn't paint enough of a picture
Not for me
And not for someone like you

So I thought, to myself
"Yanno what?
**** that."
And sat down to do better

But the problem is
Every time I try to focus in on something specific about you
My brain swarms with excitement and scrambles the thoughts

I could talk about how I could swim in the warmth and affection you radiate for days on end
But that would be too obvious

I could write a novel about how each time I catch even a glimpse of your eyes on me
My heart and soul begin surfing in a race to skip each beat the fastest
But I'm sure you already knew that

I could sing entire ballads about your voice
And how every conversation is almost sedative despite always being unique, and exciting
But that's corny

I could
Become an astronaut
Fire myself into space
And pull the stars with my bare hands
So they form your portrait
And the entire planet can see you as the otherworldly being you are
But then I wouldn't get to hear you laugh

Maybe if I plant a field of 10,000 sunflowers,
Write you 10,000 poems,
And paint 10,000 pictures of you
I'll finally be able to encapsulate your value and worth
Maybe I'll even finish in this lifetime
And live long enough to show you this monument of affection and appreciation

This art is a shrine dedicated to those I hold dear
But I fear that even with more languages under my belt
I'll never have the words to describe what it is that draws me to you

But I'll be ****** if I ever stop trying.