You were always there,
waiting for me,
to express yourself.
You spoke to me
in sentences,
short and simple
and so I penned you,
consumed by your rhyme.
Slowly,
as time progressed,
I understood you,
I added my own interpretations
and I complicated you.
I could no longer find
the right words
for those subtle expressions
of yours.
My words repeated
again and again,
and I limited you-in me.
I know
that soon,
I'll make you banal.
My words would make no meaning
and my pen will have to stop.
But before that,
I just want to write,
Meeting you was worthwhile- Life.
