Words seem like silly distractions when my mind moves to you.
What could I possibly do with words to sufficiently articulate your role in my world?
How do you spell the overwhelming ecstasy that bursts from my body uncontrollably when I see you in a moment of unadulterated beautiful bliss and carefree curiosity?
What characters capture the warmth of your hold in those late moments when the nearly impalpable caress of your fingers on my hair lulls me safely to sleep, and I feel the world has stopped, if just for an instant, so that I can take in your presence just a second longer and try to acknowledge how infinitely blessed I am to be loved by you?
When will I find a word that can adequately fill the silence in the way my need for you does in moments when we find each other and your eyes transform into doors that only open for me, and all at once I see a little boy and an old man, and a lifetime in between which I want to experience with you, hand in hand, heart in heart, for the rest of my days?
Words are beautiful. They take us to worlds far beyond our wildest dreams.
But you are no dream. You are love. You are my love, and words will never be able to express the reality of our world.
For our love is for us. No one need describe it, no one need understand it.
All that is necessary, and all that is certain, is that we feel it.
And that, my love, far surpasses sufficient and adequate.