Believe Them Anyway

Like Lips leaden from excess grass,

The words refuse to form.

With obvious reluctance to escape my lips,

They reverberate in my head

A wordsmith, I am not,

Flowery phrases I have not

But I dare to ask,

So what, if I lack the words to be the poet for you?

Paint my feelings in metaphors punctuated with punchlines,

Proclaim my desire in measured phrases to astound you,

Describe your smile as a window to happier times

How I see your very essence as a time machine,

A tribute to its ability to make me pause and stand still

I want to describe with wonder, the fullness of your lips,

Explain my bedazzlement by the sway of your hips.

The sound of your voice, the lilt you’ve come to personify.

The ululations inspiring, yet calming, much like a lullaby.

Yet because I lack the apt phrases, I fear you may wonder.

If I speak with plain words, will they make you a believer?

Would you see the pedestal I aim to place you?

Or maybe you are Helen and poetry is my Achilles.

Perhaps I’ll just say I love you and leave you to decipher,

From my silence so loud, it will scream my words louder.

Darling, whichever words come, however less they seem to say,

They bleed genuineness, therefore believe them anyway.