What to say when words fail me?
Me, a wordsmith of the first order------and ardor.
And ardor is what I express here.
Ardor for one who has turned my heart
inside out and back again,
thinking of her, wanting her, loving her,
and close to all as the result of her poetry,
in which she reveals the beauties of her mind,
the depth of her heart, along with her wonderful soul,
expressed through the beauty of her poetic creativity.
But mistake not the extent of my ardor.
Harbored deep within me is also a seething desire,
a longing to unite with
not only her mind, heart, and soul,
but with her body as well.
She excites me!
She rumbles my viscera,
a rumbling that intensifies
with every from-far-off contact
I have with her.
Never with her voice,
never her body,
just with her words,
which she rains upon me
to my sometimes nonplused,
sometimes anger-approaching mood,
sometimes plumbing the very depths
of my half-constrained desire.
How express to this woman
the myriadness of my admiration?
How best tell her of my hotly-engendered sensuality,
my unmanageable longing for her,
her totality, her unrecognized ability
to make us one?