I write this poetry with the thought of Your tears,
Your tears, that inundate my lungs,
That drown my breath,
And prevent me from speaking,
From uttering the pains of distance that have devoured my heart.

I defer from speaking in favour of writing you this poetry,
And for ink I use the sweat from the brow of anxiety I have brought you,
From the blood of strain I have caused you,
And from the bitter salt of disappointment I have dealt you.

I choose not to speak, and etch this poetry,
                                                                                                 And etch this poetry,
For a love that perplexes, and astounds me
For a love that overtakes and surrounds me,
For a love I pray never leaves me
And
I pray God,
(my soul),
somehow you believe me.