When there is secret love
For an unobtainable woman,
The sky turns black
And even the daylight
Is the darkness of night
And everything once
Feathery and light
Becomes heavy
Like wet, suffocating sheets
Of unrelenting despair.
Don’t ask me where I disappear
When I drift into private depression,
Don’t ask me to describe meticulously
With enamored words
The object of my affections.
If I were to describe
The color of her eyes,
The length of her hair,
The curvature of her breasts,
The shape of her mouth,
I’m certain I would not survive
The completion of my words.
Uriah Hamilton
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/completion-of-my-words/
