Halley Alexa
Project 365: Day 88
03 August
I could waste away the hours spilling ink all over you:
Surrounding the shape of your lashes,
Flooding through your hair
And rushing deep into your lungs.
But still it would not do.
I could write you into pages upon pages
Of hardest goodbyes and gladdest hellos,
Easily, for days, embracing the time between them
With warm arms and wide eyes.
But still it would not do.
I could conjure up the biggest, boldest words
From the thickest, oldest book
And still not find the right one for you.
No language, no ink will do,
Not the most ancient of tongues nor the thickest of ink.
It won't cover you, it won't fill you,
It won't describe the way you move
Toward me.
Project 365: Day 88
03 August
I could waste away the hours spilling ink all over you:
Surrounding the shape of your lashes,
Flooding through your hair
And rushing deep into your lungs.
But still it would not do.
I could write you into pages upon pages
Of hardest goodbyes and gladdest hellos,
Easily, for days, embracing the time between them
With warm arms and wide eyes.
But still it would not do.
I could conjure up the biggest, boldest words
From the thickest, oldest book
And still not find the right one for you.
No language, no ink will do,
Not the most ancient of tongues nor the thickest of ink.
It won't cover you, it won't fill you,
It won't describe the way you move
Toward me.