She is,

Lying pretty

Beneath the paper.

Like some echo

Of the next line

That says it all.

And I'm inkblot-Lovesick

And scribbling random words

That make no sense

But look like

What she makes me feel

When I hear them.

My muse.

And she smiles

When I get like this,

So lost for words

Because I can't grab

Enough of them.

She loves it. To see me speechless for once.

And I have a knife and

An alphabet

And I'm carving out her outline

On the page.

Hoping I can swim

Within the ink

Before it dries,

So I can find the thought of her

within myself and beneath the page

And push her face

To the surface.

And her outline will have been

The best of everything my pen

Has ever offered.

And she is snuggled sweet

Between the words

I haven't found yet,

Diving off the tip of

My thoughts

Down into me.

And like water.

I will break.

And splatter.

And ache.

And eventually.

Go back together,

Like holding her.

Like the splash reattaching,

Waves becoming still

As I hold her tight.

My future is the breach

She makes

To breathe again.

And breaks me open

As she rises from the deep.

And she makes ripples

Move out like hope

Into the future.

And I still can't capture her.

She remains beneath the ink.

Still waiting to be seen,

I keep drawing her outline.

With my words.

But the shadow I cast,

Will be her blanket.