No mortal language to convey what I want
How can these words carry what I carry in my heart
These letters serve minimal purpose acting as a messenger to my mind and yours
There's so much I think about you, all the pages in the world, all the inks and quills,
All the words to ever exist,
Still prove to be insufficient to write for you—
As your absence makes me homesick
The sound of your name may be the best thing I've ever heard
No arms, no embrace ever made me feel safe
Maybe for once I wish to live till the end
You call me love and I wonder what I did to deserve such kindness
Butterflies would be an understatement when you're feeling the tides at each caress
You call me pretty even though I deny it with all my heart,
You said it'll be okay and god knows I've never believed those words as much as I did when you said that verse,
When was I ever so happy that it made me write,
When was I ever so happy that it made me rhyme
Poets would fail to write about your eyes in just mere manmade words
The stars in your eyes maybe the biggest galaxy to ever be here
I would ask the moon to not shed it's arrogance or pride
Because when night falls, I see my own star shine
The moon is just a withering rock compared to your smile
I would swallow any venom,
I would watch the milky way burn
Nothing but your words would make me drunk, no intoxication, no drug
No poetry to contain you,
No metaphor to fit your vast universe,
My soul fails to hold the entirety of your love