The easy brightness
Of the sequined birds against
My mothers white
Curtains, I wish I could tell the
World
Everything, but I have only
Words
And it is never enough,

You will tell me that I am
Beautiful,
And I will answer that I
Would rather be your
Muse,
I would rather listen to your breaths
Steadily, sharp, shallow,
Helplessly imperfect,
I wish I could weave a tapestry
Of endless color, but I have only
Words
And it is never enough,

Sometimes I hear voices on
The wind, I try to catch
the force that drives
my fingers to dance
impatiently
across invisible keys,
but I have only
words
and it is never enough.

But your voice is there in
Perfect
Clarity, and my promise
Is hidden softly
Just below the sparkling
Of my eyes, but I have only
Words
And it will have to be
Enough.