To write what I can’t – A poem

My tongue will twist around words
Unable to be spoken,
My voice box choked
By your ineffable beauty.
Your glorious grace,
Not perfect for all
But perfect for me.

The butterflies will
Haunt my hands
As the frantic flutter
Of so many wings
Shakes my bones
And rumbles through my veins.

I won’t be able to keep hold of a pen,
All of my mind
Preoccupied
With seeing and breathing
And seeking and finding all of you.

I will see the artistry of your soul
Leaking out of
The way you string your sentences
Or the way you smile
Or the way you do anything,
Really.

My mind will stumble
And trip and mumble
Over you.
Not quite able to find words
Within the jumble
To perfectly describe
The colours of you.
The words are lost
To write you
As beautifully as I want to.

But I strive to write what I can’t.