You

You can't write a poem when you are in love--
            Not in the sense of trying to capture what you feel,
What you see, what you desire because there is only so much that can be said.

                                                  You.

A simple syllable which grabs the tongue in a choke-hold,
                Suffocates the senses and drowns out any other thoughts of logic,
Until every math equation, grammatical structure, and fine pieces of literature
                                   Adds up and becomes just one thing.

                                                                   You.

The shadowy figure in the darkness, leaning against the lamp post,
                    The comma in the sentence that separated two independent clauses,
The wrong sign that gave the wrong answer but everything made sense
                                     Because everything added up to

                                                                              You.

My delusional mind pummeled to goo and programmed to only speak in cliches,
                  of how burning kisses crucify my body and you lift me up
                                  to heaven or hell, because from this angle you can't quite tell
             With the fire, the passion, and the indulging of sin but it feels right because it's with

                                                                                       You.


And I hope God forgives me as I use his name in vain, over and over again
                  Because God, nothing has felt as good as the way you touch,
The way you caress, and the way you sing your song of joy
        With every, single, one of your well-earned groans.
                                 But it's okay if He doesn't
                 But it is His fault for making you so perfect.

                                                                You.

The reason behind every sigh and dreamy gaze while the coffee over fills the cups,
                        And burns the hands and even then I remain numb,
Because your fingers have found each curve, hit each nerve,
                                          And I'm sinking in murky waters of

                                                                                    You.

So as I find myself inhaling this drug, sinking into my delirium,
              And each word no longer rhymes, and each syllable ties into one
     Because there's nothing left to be said when one finds herself at this point;
Only one can make sense, describe the aching inside...


                                                                                   You.