A trove of grandeur

Often have you spoken of love 

And how I know as such nothing of 

I agree,  your endearment tends to overwhelm 

And I seem to just rattle, and revolve around you 

If you should ask me, if anyone would 

I could murmur the sound your hair makes 

I can recite the strumming of your heartbeat 

I could mimic your breath, leaving your nostrils 

I could describe the scent of your exhale 

I could paint the way your skin feels 

I could poetise the sparkle of your eyes’ glimpse 

Yet for all that  

I truly cannot understand love 

For you say it is so, and for me that is true 

I have tried to be you,  

Before action that very thought has failed 

For you stir, still, elate, elevate 

My body and soul, in wake and slumber 

I have often wondered, what makes you 

My answers have always been, you 

You made you, you made me,  

If you can love; how can I 

For I am unable to contain such grandeur.