I was thinking of you, darling.
Concocting a word, picture, story, a shape.
Something that in one handful, would tell you how much you mean to me.
But the word never comes,
the picture never starts,
and the story shapes up to be perfectly, you and I.
& I stand, staring at the blank page;
for cities of wishes and kind words could be spilled from these lips for days
but can never fit our storybook here on this flat blank page.
For, you see, you mean too much
for a word or a photo to complete
everything you mean to me,
everything we will grow to be.
Nothing could ever speak enough
so today, I will leave you with love.
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