Nine of the nineteenth of eleven; I will not write you a poem

I will not write you a poem.
I may have written you a few, but I will go no further
For I realized my lack of words and depth, and I could not fathom giving or describing you less.
I will not write you a poem, not because I will stop loving you
I just know that the world was made purely out of what the human kind can measure
and that the vocabulary has failed to give justice on how you were carefully sewn into who you are.
You are far more than anything I can think of
So this is why I wont write you a poem
Simply because there’s nothing close enough to your worth.

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