THE POEM I COULD NEVER WRITE…
Every time when I am with her, each smile is a reminder of the poem I’ve been meaning to write for her. But my heart refuses to let me write anything above a single word. My heart has always known writing as a form of letting go, letting go of broken promises, letting go of the grief, letting go of disappointments. Writing has always been a way of letting go of the pain. Writing out everything weighing my heart down.
And here I am today, asking my heart to let me write a love poem for the significant other and it wont let me. I try to reason with it every day, about how this time we are writing to welcome back the love we committed the injustice of forcing it on people who were too scared of eternity to welcome something as magical and so sure as our love. Every night I reason with my heart about how this stubborn ode to the lover is writing back the love into its broken pieces. That these words are the prodigal son that has finally learned where she truly belongs.
My heart refuses to believe me, so I’ve decided we will not write the poem for her. Instead we will live for the days when the poetry lies in the pictures she takes of me. Days when the tenderness in her voice when she says my name is a reminder of how smitten I am. On our happiest of days, everything beautiful reminds me of her. Even something as insignificant as how the wind feels on my skin reminds me of the ability of her love to touch every atom of me, in the most gentle of ways.
Most of the time when I am with her, I trade the words ‘I love you’ with a smile so that she can see how her love is capable of creating something as beautiful as that. One day I might be able to find the words to tell the world about how much my baby and I did not fall in love, but instead dived into it. Without any second thoughts with our fears turned off. What a bliss it is, to be loved back, the same way your heart desires to be loved. To meet a heart that understands yours and somehow it’s a little easier to believe that maybe God had you in mind when He created them.
Until my heart understands that its possible to write about love without letting it go, I will let the poetry be us, in how we love each other, in our tight hugs that remind you how in that moment you are holding your whole world in your arms. I will watch the poetry slip through moments when we are drunk from each other’s existence, and my smile has her name written all over it and I know I cannot wait for that time in our lives when I get to wake up next to her, with my skin against her and my heart wishes it has written that poem a long time ago, anticipating how that moment would feel like.
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