I wonder if she’d love
me more if she knew I was
a poet and I wrote sonnets
about the way her lips curve
like the bow used by Cupid himself
I wonder if she’d love me more
if I wrote haikus about the way
her body looks like a dream I had
where I felt like I was at home I wonder
if she’d love me more if I told her
she makes me feel what can only be described
as a dark sky opening up into sun
in a single instant and
warmth encompassing the earth
seconds before it froze over
An ode to her laugh and
every song she sings in the shower
A ballad for every time she was hurt
and I wasn’t there to hold her I’d
write about her for years and never
be able to capture her beauty
in any language
because something
tells me
it will always come down to the
same three words.