I Profess, I Try

I’ve written you everyday
And deleted each profession
Since not one letter,
No single poem,
Could grasp your heart
The way yours has
Held on to mine.
So from me to you,
And all that I have,
Is a blank sheet
With lines upon lines
Erased again and again,
Leaving smudges and smears
Of an unconditional,
Indescribable,
Love.

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