Oh, you
I am not a poet.
You’ve told me
That I’m gifted with words
You’ve told me
That no one has ever put it better
You’ve told me
That I am a thinker, she who
Crafts imagery
So that others may simply feel.
But I feel as though some things
Could stand to be clarified
I can stand my own in an argument,
And I certainly know some
Things that you do not
I’ve been able to attach words to feelings
And you’ve been able to agree
With those characterizations
Succinct, yes
Rational, yes
Conversational, most definitely
But these are generalizations, to which I have
Found an exception:
How can I be a writer
When I cannot explain
Why I am in love with you?
Of course, I could just tell everyone all the nice things about you
About how you
Are nice to babies and old people and animals
In fact, you love animals, something that I’m
A sucker for
You’re handsome, intelligent,
And always up for some fun
I could even talk about how you
Are excellent in bed - which is always important.
But these are not the reasons that I love you.
Who doesn’t like a nice guy? But
That’s not the whole picture, you see,
When I’m talking about why I love you
There’s so much to tell
Your smell. I could tell people
That you sort of smell like
Beer, but not stale.
and that you sort of smell like
A familiar cologne that I can’t name or identify
Even though you don’t wear cologne,
I know, I sleep with you every night
And I’ve never seen you put cologne on
I could say that you sort of smell like
Showers and swimming pools in high school,
Like the clean of swim team boys whose sweat has been
Bleached away by chlorine,
That you sort of smell like warm, the temperature
Not the creature, like sweaters in October, like
Cider in November, like
Two weeks before Christmas tucked under a down blanket
you smell like whole wheat toast with no butter
nothing at all to weigh down your smell
you smell like spice, something
strangely exciting, something that
I cannot quite put my finger on
But it’s a smell that brings me a feeling being safe.
Your strength. I could tell people about the
Undeniable allure of the V at your hips,
That your arms hold the hidden power of a
God in their muscles, gentle
But formidable
That seeing you naked is a gift in itself
And that I’m quite certain that I’ve
Never lain next to a body that was so comfortable yet
Simultaneously a delicious mystery
I could tell people about your
Drinking skills, how you drink beer in place of bread
And expertly abate hostility
And smoothly instate shouts of
Joy
That the beer pong table at your house
And its friendly, casual air
Is a direct indication of the people you consort with, that it is a
Direct indication of the sort of people you attract
I could tell people that you have a power that most will never
Identify, which, interestingly enough,
I did not initially identify myself
You have the power to question the
Arguments made without questioning the
Validity of the person making them
All you want is an explanation
All you want is to better understand
And most everyone will gladly oblige
Because you also have the power of trust, being both
Trustworthy and
Willing to trust
I could tell people that I’ve trusted you with my
Darkest, my brightest, and my most ludicrous of secrets
And I could further explain the importance by explaining that I’ve grown to trust
Few
But only you and I and the rare close friend would understand my
Wariness
Something that would take far more than a few minutes of anyone’s time
To truly elucidate
And on that note, I could tell people,
The same people that would require an enormously long and winding explanation
Of any events or feelings or emotions or sudden ideas
That I routinely speak of with you,
That you have rarely needed an enormously long and winding explanation
Because you are usually content with your own interpretation
Of my excited ramblings
And the few words that I speak in a pensive statement
Because you’ve got your own ideas
And you’d rather think about the relationship between
Yours and mine, for a moment,
And then remark on said relationship in a manner that
Breeds the conception of more ideas rather than
Competition betwixt them
Because, to be frank,
You get me.
I could tell people that being with you is like
The intimacy between best friends, augmented even further by the
Things that I have already attempted to describe
I could tell people that when I hear your voice on the phone
My knees go slightly weak, but not entirely
My heart jumps, but not so that it blocks my throat when I speak
I involuntarily smile, partially from memories and partially from expectation
And I could tell people what it means for you
To akin to my best friend
But that would require even further storytelling, wouldn’t it?
I told you that I wasn’t a poet.
Instead, maybe I’ll just say that if I could
Attach colors to my feelings
You would create the spectrum of the rainbow
That if I had the training I would compose a song
For you (corny, but true)
Instead, maybe I’ll just tell them that
It’s been a long, long time
Since I could’ve died from a smile
But remarkably,
You let me live
So that I can enjoy it every day
And smile back at you all the while.
You’ve told me
That I’m gifted with words
You’ve told me
That no one has ever put it better
You’ve told me
That I am a thinker, she who
Crafts imagery
So that others may simply feel.
But I feel as though some things
Could stand to be clarified
I can stand my own in an argument,
And I certainly know some
Things that you do not
I’ve been able to attach words to feelings
And you’ve been able to agree
With those characterizations
Succinct, yes
Rational, yes
Conversational, most definitely
But these are generalizations, to which I have
Found an exception:
How can I be a writer
When I cannot explain
Why I am in love with you?
Of course, I could just tell everyone all the nice things about you
About how you
Are nice to babies and old people and animals
In fact, you love animals, something that I’m
A sucker for
You’re handsome, intelligent,
And always up for some fun
I could even talk about how you
Are excellent in bed - which is always important.
But these are not the reasons that I love you.
Who doesn’t like a nice guy? But
That’s not the whole picture, you see,
When I’m talking about why I love you
There’s so much to tell
Your smell. I could tell people
That you sort of smell like
Beer, but not stale.
and that you sort of smell like
A familiar cologne that I can’t name or identify
Even though you don’t wear cologne,
I know, I sleep with you every night
And I’ve never seen you put cologne on
I could say that you sort of smell like
Showers and swimming pools in high school,
Like the clean of swim team boys whose sweat has been
Bleached away by chlorine,
That you sort of smell like warm, the temperature
Not the creature, like sweaters in October, like
Cider in November, like
Two weeks before Christmas tucked under a down blanket
you smell like whole wheat toast with no butter
nothing at all to weigh down your smell
you smell like spice, something
strangely exciting, something that
I cannot quite put my finger on
But it’s a smell that brings me a feeling being safe.
Your strength. I could tell people about the
Undeniable allure of the V at your hips,
That your arms hold the hidden power of a
God in their muscles, gentle
But formidable
That seeing you naked is a gift in itself
And that I’m quite certain that I’ve
Never lain next to a body that was so comfortable yet
Simultaneously a delicious mystery
I could tell people about your
Drinking skills, how you drink beer in place of bread
And expertly abate hostility
And smoothly instate shouts of
Joy
That the beer pong table at your house
And its friendly, casual air
Is a direct indication of the people you consort with, that it is a
Direct indication of the sort of people you attract
I could tell people that you have a power that most will never
Identify, which, interestingly enough,
I did not initially identify myself
You have the power to question the
Arguments made without questioning the
Validity of the person making them
All you want is an explanation
All you want is to better understand
And most everyone will gladly oblige
Because you also have the power of trust, being both
Trustworthy and
Willing to trust
I could tell people that I’ve trusted you with my
Darkest, my brightest, and my most ludicrous of secrets
And I could further explain the importance by explaining that I’ve grown to trust
Few
But only you and I and the rare close friend would understand my
Wariness
Something that would take far more than a few minutes of anyone’s time
To truly elucidate
And on that note, I could tell people,
The same people that would require an enormously long and winding explanation
Of any events or feelings or emotions or sudden ideas
That I routinely speak of with you,
That you have rarely needed an enormously long and winding explanation
Because you are usually content with your own interpretation
Of my excited ramblings
And the few words that I speak in a pensive statement
Because you’ve got your own ideas
And you’d rather think about the relationship between
Yours and mine, for a moment,
And then remark on said relationship in a manner that
Breeds the conception of more ideas rather than
Competition betwixt them
Because, to be frank,
You get me.
I could tell people that being with you is like
The intimacy between best friends, augmented even further by the
Things that I have already attempted to describe
I could tell people that when I hear your voice on the phone
My knees go slightly weak, but not entirely
My heart jumps, but not so that it blocks my throat when I speak
I involuntarily smile, partially from memories and partially from expectation
And I could tell people what it means for you
To akin to my best friend
But that would require even further storytelling, wouldn’t it?
I told you that I wasn’t a poet.
Instead, maybe I’ll just say that if I could
Attach colors to my feelings
You would create the spectrum of the rainbow
That if I had the training I would compose a song
For you (corny, but true)
Instead, maybe I’ll just tell them that
It’s been a long, long time
Since I could’ve died from a smile
But remarkably,
You let me live
So that I can enjoy it every day
And smile back at you all the while.