Although monosyllabic, your name isn’t just a beat;
everything you are cannot fit into a single pulsation of a song.
Your kiss shows bravery, open and unreserved,
kisses that say you’re not afraid of swallowing poison.
I once traced the mountain range of your vertebrae
and the dried riverbeds of your stretch marks
and realized you are a whole new planetㅡ
a whole new moon that I’d love to explore.
You are the thunderstorm that shook the ground,
and you know I’ve always loved the rain.
There is still so much I’d like to know about you.
Like every word you have trouble spelling,
or the best advice you’ve gotten.
I will send you letter after letter of verses
because the only other way I can make love is through poetry.
Sometimes I don’t know what to say.
Words have too much life in them
to understand how to wrap themselves around hearts,
but that’s okay because poetry doesn’t have to rhyme.
It just has to touch someone where hands can’t.