When I Write You Something

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When I write you something, please know that I am not writing it just because I am good at my vocabulary. Or when I write you a song, that doesn't mean that I want to be another Ed Sheeran.

I write you a poem, because I am not articulate in saying this to you, that you are more than words could describe and that you are too deep for a poetry, or too wide for a song but at least I tried to dive deeper and jump off your crevices and cliffs.

Should I be a thing,  I want to be your artwork you keep on painting, you already did give me colors to my life and when you look at me, I could feel the warmth of the universe through those eyes embracing even the tiniest nerves in my canvass body.

And I want to be the song you keep listening at four in the morning, and make your day okay.  I want you to sing my name like your favorite song, and to memorize my moles as how you memorize lyrics.

When I write you something, that means I want you to read me as how you read the novel of Paulo Coelho, or to listen to my silent “I love you” when I bring you coffee at your art studio.

When I write you something, that means that I want to make your name the title of my poem anthology, that each pages will be named after the color of your nails, the size of your feet, the complexion of your eyes.

When I write you something, that means that I want to have collection of love letters in your wooden chest sometime 60 years from now and when a granddaughter will ask you what is inside, you will tell her it's the treasure maps of a sunken ship, and that ship is still sinking with your oceans.

When I write you something, that means that my heart has been pumping too much love, and instead of having hypertension, it bleeds through the ink.

Loving you, it makes me drown even more down the depths of your soul until the only words I could utter are those three magical ones. And I am sinking again, and again...

Sayounara  (さようなら)Where stories live. Discover now