until next time

it seems as if i’m mean

when i am just thinking

of a way to say the things

i feel

overwhelmingly

words are such futile devices,

like baking without sugar and spices;

the words that exit the oven of

my mouth

do little to reflect the raw emotion,

the ingredients when mixed

together with syntax

and my foolish voice

have no choice but to fall flat

like soda with the cap

left off overnight

again, my plight is to try

to find a way to say

all the things i long

to say,

like: i love you more than each and every grain of sand

on all the beaches in this universe

like: i miss you more than all the money the greedy wish

they carried within a purse

like: how i cry at night worried that before the hearse carries

one of us away on the final day

i won't be able to say all the things i long to say-

but, perhaps- i remind my mind

love is not a line to write, love is not a sound to make

but maybe loving is doing, love is a verb so possibly

loving is an action

so with a seemingly insignificant gesture

such as: a door held open

such as: an offer to take the heavier load, to lighten your burden

such as: breakfast in bed or a ‘ticket’ written on inelegant

paper for a ‘free massage’, such as cleaning the garage

such as: a ride from the station when the car is out of gas or the battery

is no longer full of life

i offer this mess of diction as some type of action of love, as a placeholder

till i am able to get the words in the correct order in order

to say the right things

please accept my meager attempt at ‘saying it’

for, it is true that we do

not say it enough

i wish it weren’t so tough

yet, again, words aren’t much

to say-

they are futile devices that more often

than not seem to just get in the way

either way, i hope this piece of paper

with these words can be at least

an ‘i owe you’ until i can get it

right,

until next time.