I wish there was some way to write a poem. Like what Shakespeare or the other greats penned. How do I capture your beauty the way they do?
Do I start with your smile And how it never fails to infect me? The smile that I wish I could carry forever For the times when I falter.
Do I tell about what you do That tugs so dearly and painfully at my heart? Like sweeping your hair behind your ear; Like messaging a friend with such intent in your eyes; Like excitedly jumping up for a photo; But then, every gesture is somehow special. I would never run out.
Do I try to liken you to something else? Like the sunset, and how I could only gaze upon you from afar. But then I would end up quoting songs I know.
Do I try to describe how I feel about you? How it is like a traveller in the desert who spots an oasis afar off. How it is like a boy spotting his favourite toy in the shop window. A million and one cliches.
But in the end, I would probably drop the packaging. Tell you as it is.
I have dared to love with such abandon. I have dared to dream of such sweet romance. I have dared to tell you. But I have dared not ask the question. Why ask if one of us has to say no? For I should have never fallen for you. If only my emotions would listen.
And I doubt I will ever love another. For if the heart that has truly loved never forgets, How could it let another in while one still resides within?
Perhaps, I will then learn to love the girl I marry, Since I cannot marry the girl I love. But the memory of what could have been Will always linger. It will always bring a smile.
Conversations are snatched from you. They travel all the way across the table. Never returning. Away from you.
It starts very simply. Someone else asks a question. Away from you. Never returning.
And it is never remembered That there is a pending conversation. That at one corner of the table A boy patiently awaits his turn. Knowing full well it will never come.
Attempt after attempt after attempt. Perhaps, that is why I prefer letters.
