A Poet Without Words

By Zaina Haque

I smile at how difficult it is 

to describe you

every time someone asks.

I suppose I smile 

at every opportunity I get

to speak about you,

though I’ve noticed 

words never seem quite enough.

I start off with the obvious ones.

Pure hearted, gentle,

talented, intelligent,

funny, and fiercely loyal.

But even those feel too small.

For how could I ever explain 

the essence of your soul?

What comparison 

could ever 

do you justice?

I’ve always admired words, 

but with you, 

I admire the loss of them.

I admire even the inability 

to express,

when there is 

the ability to understand.

It is true, I don’t quite know 

how to describe you,

but I know that I see you.

I mean, really see you.

And I think 

whenever someone asks-

they see you too.

Reflected in my smile; my eyes.

Despite my inability 

to piece you together with words,

I think in my eyes

they see what you’ve done to me,

who you’ve been to me–

and who you are

with or without me.

They see that 

though I struggle 

to describe you,

I could still speak about you 

infinitely.

They see that 

though I overuse 

the same few words,

it’s not for lack of thought–

it’s because 

I’ve already come up 

with a hundred different analogies

and none of it

ever did amount to you.

I suppose some might miss it 

if they’re ignorant enough-

see a girl simply in love.

But if they paid attention, 

looked closely–

through me, 

they’d see

just a part of your soul. 

And a part 

is all they’d need,

to be sure that you

are something that words 

were not made to describe.

You? 

You can only be described

by the unnamed color

that appears in my eyes

whenever someone 

mentions your name.

By Zaina Haque