I’ll keep wondering.

I often wondered why I couldn’t write about you.

I often day dreamed about your warm breath against my neck,

or the sound of my name (or versions of it) rolling off your tongue,

But I could never quite figure out why I couldn’t write about you.

I couldn’t turn you in to metaphors and exaggeration.

I couldn’t even rhyme your name.

Heck, I couldn’t even figure out the rhythm of your beating heart!

You’d think that after six months I’d have figured it out,

But here I am, still wondering.

Maybe, just maybe;

You are worth more than a clever metaphor and rhyme.

Maybe, just maybe;

You mean more to me than just a poem.

Maybe, just maybe;

I can’t turn you in to poetry, because you’re not a figment of my over active imagination.

Maybe, just maybe,

You’re real.

 

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

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