All The Words

All the words
in the world

and I can chew them up
and paste them back down

with pencil on paper,
with ink,
with ones and zeroes.

I can translate them

and I can say them
and I can sing them
and I can imagine them

and I can give them color and form.

All the words
in the world

and I can frame them,

gild them,
chain them,
festoon them

with baubles and sugar cake.

All the words
in the world

and I can crack a whip

and make them do nearly
my every bidding,

call up images
that evoke brilliance and sweetness,
hope and joy,
power and knowledge.

All the words
in the world,

and I know all of them,
and have tasted them
all on my tongue.
Not one of them
is good enough
to name what my heart knows
of you,
what it has tasted
of you.

Not one,

not a bible’s verse,
not a king’s speech,
not a bard’s sonnet.

They all fall short,

They are my greatest gift,
and they are nothing like worthy.

Love me, anyway,
and I will spend my life
trying to make a new language for us,

one that will capture
all of what my heart
and how much of that
is yours.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.