it’s not often the words fail me, not often i’m left without something to say, they flee my head and scamper off

but nothing clever comes to mind, no flowery phrase finds blossom upon my tongue and spreads it’s pollen down the page

she sends a flurry of electrical impulses down my every nerve, lights my brain on fire, makes muscles involuntarily contract and seize

i sit in the quiet and long to hear her voice softly murmur the thoughts that consume me, to repeat them aloud in sing song tones

in the sanctuary of this hollow void she sits suspended in midair in the lotus juxtaposition, sending calm and frantic want down my every cell

she is nirvana, she is paradise, she is the light and the darkness entwined upon my very soul, the serpent and the savior

while my waking mind knows perfection is an illusion, she is the definition of serenity in the stormy seas of white foam waves

i yearn to drown in her, to fill my chalice and sip upon her for eternity, to live and die by her every whim and uttered word

she is the woman with wildflowers in her hair, the tangled root that snakes throughout me and takes hold of my desire

she, she, she, an ever blooming light that suffuses, she, she, she, the rain that washes pain away, she, she, she, my every want and need given corporeal existence

and yet the words escape me, unable to paint her visage with awkward tongue and empty skull, she makes the fool more foolish with every glimpse