if love is blind can you read the braile my heart is scribbling down the page

love is forever and i have not begun to write to you, and i will never stop making odes for you

but i cannot write a poem about love

i don’t know if i have the words

if i have the experience to write about the most important emotion, the thing that propels our footsteps ever on

it is a chemical dependency to me because the reality of it is just out of reach, at the tip of my exploring tongue, an itch at the back of my mind

i tried before, clumsy well intentioned things that rang as hollow as the echoing sounds of her walking out the door

that wasn’t love

it was convenience

another time i poured myself from this suit of meat and liquid only for her to step over the mess

her pretty little toes kept pristine

when i was young i thought i knew what it was but that was just my penis whispering with frantic need

now that i an older, aged, properly seasoned, i see how far from true my misconceptions were

it is the quiet moments, the accidental touch, the secret kisses, the need to just be close

it is the ability to spill your guts and not see disgust, or the other recoil

can you read the braile my blind emotion is writing

or am i stuck in this perpetual night, singing off key and mispronouncing the words

is this the universe telling me i missed my limited tries, all out of continues, this truly is a game and my hand eye coordination is lacking to truly excell

maybe as the timer was counting to zero my last desperate attempt went wide, the stands cleared and i am alone making failed shot after missed opportunity as the lights are slowly flickering off

i cannot write when i don’t know the words

my limited understanding of language, linguistic failings, sensationalist terminology, lack of clever turn of phrase holds New back

the look in my eyes speaks the volumes i could never articulate in a way that makes sense

so i will never write a love poem

will never speak the words of giving oneself so completely to another, sacrificing all to attain that moment of connectedness, if carrying her across burning coals so she never has to feel the heat of pain well up deep inside

because i have no skill to do so

because love is forever and i only have a finite amount of time

love is all encompassing and i am just a speck of dust, an atom, such a tiny thing compared to the splendor that is you

but it doesn’t mean i won’t try

and maybe, just maybe, that is really what love is

i don’t know

the unwritten things i wish i could say