I will write the words that hide behind my teeth,
Holding onto my tongue as I try to find them,
Clinging to my taste buds.
I will write what I’d say if I were brave,
If I could take a deep breath and shake out a sentence.
Pulling the covered metaphors from behind their costumes,
Showing you how you make me feel.
I can write the heavens and put it to words.
Heaven is put on paper when my poetry is of you.
But to speak this magic is a different task.
It’s far easier to hide behind the black and white,
The bold and italicized, the underlined and the faded.
But much like other things,
I find you hard to define.
You are so many things, how can I you justice with faulty speech?
For you, I will read over, fix, and perfect.
You have proven to me that I can do it.
I can be with another.
But my voice still shakes when I speak of my triumphs.
So for you, I wish I could share the joy in my heart,
But since I cannot, I will write.
I will write for you. About you.
I will write you.