You want me to write you?
Tell me how…
Which pen could I use?
Which hand?
Which language could encapsulate
Your beauty?
You want me to fall
In love with you,
For a certain time,
To write you, then abandon
Your beauty?
You want me to describe you,
Pretty Eyes?
All my life I've written,
Filled countless notebooks…
Six months have passed,
And the book entitled
Pretty Eyes
Still is wholly blank.
I'm at a loss for words…
You've rendered me silent
With a single look;
Your eyes have muted me.
What are you, woman?
You're something new…
You're greater than my words,
Superior to my thoughts…
I haven't yet learned
The language with which
I could write you.
Teach me a language
Lovers speak,
A private language,
Spoken in whispers,
Too marvelous
For the passersby…
One only understood by your
Pretty eyes.
Then…
I would write you,
I would tell the world
Of your serene smile,
Of your fervid smile,
Of your unrivaled smile.
I would tell them all of
Your beauty.
You ask me to fall
In love with you?
I have…
I do confess, and
Every second without you
Reassures me…
I've fallen.
There is no need for me
To plunge…
I am already plummeting.
You ask me to fall
In love with you?!
Do the beaches
Ask the ocean
To bathe them?!
Does the Sun
Ask the roses
To bloom?!
I was bound by your
Pretty eyes;
They stole my love…
When first our eyes met
I loved you,
My heart was conquered then by
Your beauty.
You want me to write you?
Where would I begin?
Your fingertips?
Your hair?
Your voice?
Your neck?
Do me a favor…
Be complicated;
I can't write your simplicity…
Be crude;
I can't write your delicateness…
Be awkward;
I can't write our comfortableness…
Be less beautiful;
I really can't write
Your beauty.
I've paced my apartment
Ten thousand times…
Ten thousand steps…
One million thoughts…
How would I begin writing you,
Pretty Eyes?
What words would do you justice?
Eventually, when on my deathbed,
I'll have figured it out…
I'll simply write
Three tiny words…
Eight simple letters…
One sincere thought…
I love you…
