Why I never write about you.
I’ve exhausted myself enough, let me begin.
No, beautiful boy , it’s not because I don’t love you enough,
it’s because I love you too much.
And I cannot much afford these words for I am left drained by the time I finish
if there ever can be an end.
How do I tell you the reason I don’t ever write about you is because
I am scared, in the rawest sense of the word.
Scared that I would never succeed in constructing you on paper,
scared it’ll be unjust to your image, that I might just fall short.
I hold you too high in my opinion love and I wouldn’t want to bring you down to this
Love, angels weren’t meant for earth yet I’ve had you for eight years somewhere around my life.
How do I tell you that you, you are my beautiful
beautiful little miracle that you are the reason this skeptic believes in magic and that at age 16 I’m terrified my miracle is done and I’m more afraid because love,
I’m wise and I understand how it works,
I am a realist damn it but you make me write these unspeakably foolish things.
And what if they read my words?
They might claim to know you, to understand you.
But that is forbidden and cursed are they who think they can unravel you and this includes me.
No, I won’t stand this nonsensical talk about how you are just Another boy, no.
Fools so blinded they can’t see that piercing light around you.
See, I’m scared because now that I’ve had you in my life no one will Ever be able to live
the fiercest of my loves was to be my first.
So to this day, I’m throwing myself at guys and girls too sometimes
because there just might be something wrong with me but I don’t want to believe that so
I hope I’m gay.
Wouldn’t it scare you too?
If you thought writing about someone could encompass them in a single page,
a feat I’ve failed to accomplish because one just can’t.
The thing is love, I can go on and on
and I can write until my hand twists and speak until my throat’s soar and
my eyes raw but
no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try replicating you on paper
this blooded ink will never be enough to pull you into reality, this dimension I exist in.
And I refrain from putting your name in here love but I know how beautifully it slips
into my verses and that is exactly how I know you belong.
And I find myself here yet again.
I’ll never write about you because I cannot and so
I sit here chained.