4:13 a.m.

words fail me.
that's rare.
when usually
i have so much
to say, the
excessive thesaurus
and constant commentary
that are my mind
dry up.

a poem? a poem.
you make me feel
like i could write a novel.
you make me lose
my voice.

the words
the phrases, the lines,
turning so regular
in my head
simply cease.
the vast ocean of my
turgid thoughts,
worthless vocabulary,
swims, undulating,
to rivers, trickling down,
tributaries, drops,
dripping to one phrase.
one tiny line.
one you know.
one we all know.

but too soon.
so soon, it can't
be said yet, for
fear the tributaries
trickle back, the
rivers reverse, run
leaping to the vast
ocean of my
turgid thoughts.
worthless vocabulary.
for fear i should find
my voice. it isn't
important, keep it,
please.

because within all these
waterworks, never has honesty
been more apparent.
suddenly this multi-threaded
mind is woven, strung,
tied to one simple phrase.
that one we all know.

and yet, still i sit, unable,
no, unwilling, to say it.
not just yet. for fear the
drip never drop again.
for fear the trickle be lost
forever in the vast ocean of
my turgid thoughts.
worthless vocabulary.

don't melt, darling. don't
say to me, "you liquefy me."
what am i to do with you,
my lovable puddle?
watch as you run upstream,
quickly, carrying with you
a trickle,
a drip-drop,
until every delta and tributary
inverts, reverts, converges,
collides into the trickling,
dripping, dropping,
undulating ocean of my
turgid thoughts, still
worthless vocabulary, and
you are by my side.