Saturday, November 28, 2009

About K

Dear you

I am simple and 99 percent of the time, I don't know what to say, so I just talk shit. But when I talk to you, I want to sing sweet rhymes, lift you up and make you feel all right.

What I want and what I am, they can be miles apart, I know, but good intentions count, tell me they do, because I have only good intentions when I talk to you.

I want to tell you the thousand ways you are pleasing to me, but it is everything about you, and I can say it just by saying your name. I want to tell you how many times I have dreamt about you, but you are my dream, and I can dream you just by saying your name. I want to tell you you are luscious fruit hanging on the vine, but words are dry and useless tools that I will never learn to tame. They will not say anything but that you are pleasing to me.

I want to tell you about your laugh, and no one laughs like you. It sounds like you are unsure you should, which makes it a gift that I treasure when I can bring it out. I want to tell you about your smile, how I love to see your perfect teeth, pale jewels in a mouth I'd love to kiss. I cannot tell you about your kiss; words are too few, too barren. I will, given the chance, show you my meaning, that's all I can do.

I want to tell you about your hair, your eyes, your cheeks, your lips. I want to tell you how beautiful you are to me, how the world made me a dream and you were it.

You are a treasure that I would keep close to me for all my days, a world that I would explore and never grow tired of unravelling its secrets. I do not have words to explain, only the sighs I sigh, only the few feeble lines I can make from the poor treasury of signs that I possess.

But what does it matter? What do words matter? Here we are: just hearts that beat. Here we are: D and K, that's all we can be--I am D and you are pleasant to me.



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