Inept

My words fail me again...
The dictionaries inside me are ashes on the ground and
Language after language I can't seem to find the words
To write you down exactly...
To capture you with the ink of my pen...
To tie you against my ribs and keep you there,
Mine. Always mine. Only mine...
I lack the ability to create the perfect string of words
To describe how your voice twists me,
How your touch makes me vibrate...

And I cannot seem to find myself capable

To ink you down just the way you are.

How can I explain the ecstasy of your attention?

Or how my veins hum and twist inside my skin...

How can I show you the cocktail of chemicals

In which my brain is soaking?

Five languages at my disposal to tell you exactly

How I feel about you but there's no combination,

There's no magic string of words

To tell you how I feel.