i opened my notebook
pencil in my hand, lip under my teeth.
I flicked to a blank page
and stared at it even more blankly.

i wanted to a write,
vent out what was building inside me;
about you, your smile, your talks,
i wanted to write
everything about you
so i could remember you better.

but no words come to my mind,
my pencil in my hand doesn't touch the paper
because i don't have the right words
to describe you.
i sit the entire night that way,
and in the end i give up
and send you a text.

-- (via i can't even describe you, yet here i am, writing a book about you.)