I can’t write.

Should I really write about you?

August 2010

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I often wonder why I can’t write about my love for you? Why – when I can always note down phrases and fragments of my feelings, as strong as the gusts of that freezing September?  Why do the ornate words refuse to instantly glide from my fingertips onto the immaculate sheets?

Perhaps it’s because I love you too much – and too deep for symbols to replace how it seeps in my chest. I love you immensely that I cannot simply jot it down. I love you so much that all vocabularies lay stiff and mundane. They lose the capacity to communicate and explain.

Perhaps I love you more than I could write.

I do not want to write about your sweet and resolute soul. I want to touch it. I want to be wrapped around your charm and entirety. I do not want a pen and ink to describe the beautiful bends and marks of both your simplicity and complexity – I want to experience it.

Perhaps I love you more than I could write.

I love you that language seems to be empty and useless. Words become all sullen and thin.

Perhaps I love you more than I could write.

And I just want to zealously evaporate in your gentle arms. Because I love you – and no intense words may take its place. And I will continue to love you, as I retreat from the attempt to translate it into something – something that cannot even scratch the surface of how I feel.

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