I’m painting pictures of you,
Yet I don’t have the skills.
I’m sure the colors I choose,
Will not do you justice.
I’m singing songs about you,
Yet I can’t hold a tune.
My guitar neck is stained with blood,
From anxious fingers yearning for a melody.
I keep day dreaming of you,
Yet I keep getting interrupted.
This may be a good thing,
Just in case my thoughts become naughty!
I’m writing books about you,
Yet I’ve run out of pages.
My thesaurus is pained because it is struggling to define,
The depth of your being.
I’m having dinner with you,
Yet I don’t feel like eating.
Your smile has me lynched,
And your dress… I know you wore that on purpose!
I’m getting married to you,
Yet 190 days still remain to pass,
Until we stand together and make those promises,
To forever be on the same path.
I think it is self explanatory!