Description

February 15, 2020

Why can I describe you

only by the scent of spring’s arrival,

Of the outdoors fertile by pollen,

Of newborn leaves alive and months from falling?

 

Why can I describe you

only by streetlights illuminating the land

below the intangible sky,

Saving the shadows who dance along brick and sneak down alleyways

and hide as strangers drive by?

 

Why can I describe you

only by that song from 1992

which we never even listened to together

but which understands us better than even we do

and which traps me on repeat

of the retro beats emitted from you?

 

Why can I describe you

only by the taste of your lips

under the first moon?

Everytime my tongue reminisces,

That first kiss resumes.

 

Why can I describe you

only by the tightness in my palm from your grasp?

Though your hand left long ago,

Its print remains as my hand strains to the past.

 

Why can I describe you

with sensations alone?

How can I grieve

when all I have up my sleeve

is your scent, your light,

One crescendo, one night,

And an empty palm?

Can my worship be sacred

with but a lyricless psalm?

 

Why can I describe you

only with untethered sensations that will

fly as the years do?

With no words quite precise and true,

I am left lonely

with only the undeniable erasure

of the indescribable nature

of you.