This is no poem or essay, although I feel as though I could write a book about you.
My pages would fill with intricate descriptions that I would read to the blind, and they’d see you as splendid and divine.
With clarity, I’d paint you, although my fingers twitch and stutter because I have no control over my nerves, I’d paint you.
I would need a canvas,
for each eye, and another for each strand of hair.
You think it’s beauty that makes me seem like a shallow man, but my dear you have bewitched every part of me, and I find beauty in nothing else but you. All beauty in nature and Earth have ceased, and all is gray except for you. If I am admiring your beauty, it is because there is no beauty elsewhere and I must do all that I can to bathe and soak in it before I am gone.
I do not know if I had a purpose or path that I was meant to mend, put on Earth for reason, and I need not care. I had not thought about God or verses from a holy book until I’ve heard you laugh. I start to recite the words of God to protect you because if you could exist to be such goodness, then there must be evil elsewhere. You have created a paradox in my world, and I see everything that isn’t you as contradictions.
If it were my last day on this Earth, and you’ve brushed those fingers across my face, I’d be in heaven before I was dead. And if it were my first day on this Earth, and you were never born, I’d be dead just as I had become alive.
You’ve asked what I like or fancy, but if I’ve been wrong to think I loved before, surely I’m wrong about everything else.
My slate has been cleared because there’s nobody before you that seems real. If you were to stand on my grave, your feet standing on dirt with me buried under, you would hear my bones rattle, longing for your embrace. If I hear you cry, I would come back to life one more time to make you smile. How can you pierce my heart by crying my love?
It may be absurd, but I find myself in fear. Not fearing that my love will lose its pigment, I am certain my flesh will lose its color before that, but in fear from God. I fear God will stare at his creation and realize it is too divine for me. I fear God will fall in love with you and decide to keep you away from me. If it comes to that, I would have lived a hundred lives because you loved me once.