I don't like writing about you, because frankly I don't know how.
I can't write about the way you looked today, because then I'd have to
mention how your whole face was engulfed by your smile, like a wildfire with endless oxygen that's exchanged between us. I'd have to include the manner in which the waves of your silken hair fall on your neck, and creep across your collarbones, like a full moon's tide. I can't write about your sense of humor, because I would have to go into detail about how it brings out my goofy smile, and we've already covered that. I can't elaborate on your eyes, because all the dictionaries in the universe couldn't team up and find a proper adjective to do so. The truth is, darling, I could write about all these things, but there isn't a single way I could twist my words to form you on this piece of paper, and frankly, it could never do you justice.