It's odd when someone manages to
Render
You
Speechless.

Not in the way
Where you have no words—
No, no.
I how
you choke at the keyboard
When you have too many.

What can I say? The truth or a promise?
Should I talk about the way
The sunlight trails across your hair,
Midas' touch upon your scalp,
Or maybe your voice.
The sandy quality of it
The comforting tone of it
How it commands the attention of the earth itself...

Mother nature told you at birth:
"You are a woman
For which I will bless."
And mother nature caressed your
Celestial-kissed cheeks,
Whispered,
"And you will be 
the luckiest 
The most beautiful
That anyone could have,"
And just like that,

It was true.

Who are you, if not a friend.
Who are you, if not a myriad of glory.
Who are you,
Who are you,
Who—

There will be a day
Where, unknowingly,
You will forget me.
But by then, you would have shone
So bright
That all I could remember of the past
Is you.