"My Predicate"

Words seem so inadequate
When I reach for you.

Why?

I want to
Precisely convey
The trace of my fingertip
Along the nape of your neck
or along the soft dimple in
the small of your cheek
as i stroll down the furrows
of your chest...

But how?

Each night as I envelop you in my arms
Your love’s scent mocks my attempts
to attach these predicates
called words
And when I awake and
find your hand in mine
I desperately search for
An unused phrase,
And unrepeated clause
That paints best a picture,
That speaks to you and of you
Of this delight that you sketch
Within me beyond definition

Yet what else is there for me to use?

I am no painter or actor
Is there another language
I must learn
That can portray
The way we fit and
The safety we feel
As we hold one another?
Our gaze meets and
our dreams are intricately
tangled
Every night I madly search
The heart’s dictionary
The soul’s thesaurus
And once more
The words slowly abate
Your loving glance becomes the
rhyming composition
Your laughter the emotional verse
The brush of your lips become
my pausing sonnet
Your arms wrapped around me
the Academy
This game is astoundingly frustrating
yet thrillingly beautiful

Perhaps...

It is Evolution, an Atomic
Fusion of electrical transformation,
an Inception
That needs to catch up
Where the Predicate
And our heart space is so
Undeniably intertwined
That one learner cannot survive
without the other
Certainly that is what already is,
Our never ending comma
An everlasting trend.