If my heart were a book
I'd let you read it o'er and o'er
If my thoughts could be seen
I'd show you the colors
The spins and the twirls
The endless loops and happy corkscrews.
If my palms were ink,
And my blood a pen,
I'd give both to you, and let you
Write on my paper-thin heart
Made out of delicate and fragile shards
Of light and hope
And of happiness,
Happiness I found with you.
If my words meant anything
Anything at all,
One would know
How much I,
For some unspoken reason,
I love you.
For the skies haven't spoken,
And the rain never whispered,
Nor the wind ever hinted,
Nor the lonesome silence suggested
A reason why I should.
I could walk from field to fountain
From sea to mountain
Ask every flower and tree
Every bird and buzzing bee
Why I love you
Not one could tell.
So in the spoken silence I fell
I haven't quite gotten up yet
I haven't even really recovered
So I thought that while I was down
When maybe if my words are dull
Listless and numbing,
Perhaps I might not be driven away,
But humored, if only casually,
To understand that my
My heart adores you.

~S.S.B