She is,
Lying pretty
Beneath the paper.
Like some echo
Of the next line
That says it all.
And I'm inkblot-Lovesick
And scribbling random words
That make no sense
But look like
What she makes me feel
When I hear them.
My muse.
And she smiles
When I get like this,
So lost for words
Because I can't grab
Enough of them.
She loves it. To see me speechless for once.
And I have a knife and
An alphabet
And I'm carving out her outline
On the page.
Hoping I can swim
Within the ink
Before it dries,
So I can find the thought of her
within myself and beneath the page
And push her face
To the surface.
And her outline will have been
The best of everything my pen
Has ever offered.
And she is snuggled sweet
Between the words
I haven't found yet,
Diving off the tip of
My thoughts
Down into me.
And like water.
I will break.
And splatter.
And ache.
And eventually.
Go back together,
Like holding her.
Like the splash reattaching,
Waves becoming still
As I hold her tight.
My future is the breach
She makes
To breathe again.
And breaks me open
As she rises from the deep.
And she makes ripples
Move out like hope
Into the future.
And I still can't capture her.
She remains beneath the ink.
Still waiting to be seen,
I keep drawing her outline.
With my words.
But the shadow I cast,
Will be her blanket.