Sie

She has a face that often shows
how many faces it hides
she has the colors that May can barely bring to life

She can be gentle like the wind
She can hurt like a child
can make my pain freeze
and every day be one that succeeds

She is the chapter that shapes me
the wave that carries me further
that determines my highs and my lows

She is that measure by which we gauge
the bruise that you forget
the shore that you drift toward, just as you are

Her, if you saw her like I do
not loving her, I think, would hurt
she is the blue that the morning waves to

She is familiar to me, like old photos are
for whose flaws you’re blind out of love
that you carry where time doesn’t reach

She is what I have, what I am
is my loss and my gain
is the face you can’t just pass by

She is the poem that remains unwritten
that I’m left to write
that should say something like simply just
I love her. Her. Her.