I’m clearly no type of poet. My prose is too flat and
stilted, and I don’t have a true romantic’s heart. I’m also, obviously, not a
singer or songwriter. My grasp of metaphors and fantastical imagery is severely
lacking. In addition, they got it easy, they can just sing the word “love”
eight times in a row, then go home, do some whip-its or whatever and still go
triple platinum and get a Grammy or five. All I can do is write like I write.
So here I go.
Clichés are clichés for a reason, (hell, even that is a
cliché.) It’s hard to try to redefine or discover a new way to express love and
joy and beauty that hasn’t already been done.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Nah, Billy Shakes
already covered that.
You’re beautiful? Nope, James Blunt got there before me.
God only knows what I’d be without you? Lovely sentiment,
but the Beach Boys made that point decades ago.
And I’m pretty sure Prince has covered everything else that
could be expressed about love.
There’s nothing new under the sun. But I’m gonna try anyway.
Sincerely, for once.
Whew, this is hard. I’m so rarely sincere. It’s so much
easier to make jokes all the time, you know? But you’ve inspired me in a way
I’ve never been previously inspired. From the day I first saw you and your big
Tootsie glasses and I awkwardly tried to start a conversation with you.
“Uhh, so what’s a bar like you doing in a girl like this? I
mean, what’s your sign? I mean, uhh, me Josh, who you?” As you could tell right
away, I’m smooth as all get out.
Over the weeks, I would sneak glances at you when possible,
no mean feat for a blind dude.
Eventually, a conversation was struck and I got to discover you for
being more than a pretty face. And I learned just how fascinating you are.
I specialize in interesting, non-mundane people, and you
crack the top five. I know you don’t see it, but I do. We never have a boring
conversation and I never get tired talking to you. I learn something new and
exciting every time we talk. When we converse, it’s like a breeze on a hot day.
It travels from my neck, down my spine and cools me in a most satisfying way.
Hell, just being with you is like the sun radiating light after a bleak,
sepulchral day. (Too many meteorological-based metaphors?)
I don’t smile. It’s one of my traits. (Gotta stave off them
wrinkles!) But being with you has made me smile more than I’ve done this
century. It’s weird for me to be happy, I’m not used to it. In fact, typical Josh
would do something to sabotage our relationship because I don’t feel that I
deserve happiness.
But maybe, for once, I do. And I thank you for that. I’m
becoming a positive person in some ways. More optimistic. I guess you can teach
an old dog new tricks. Every day with you is the first day. A new beginning.
Another chance. When I was at my lowest, even though you barely knew me, you
were at my side, dragging me, kicking and screaming out into the light. It’s
kind of humbling. You saw me fragmented and not as the cool, suave guy that
everybody knows and loves, and you didn’t run away.
I can only hope to make you feel the way you make me feel.
That I can bring luminosity to your cloudy days and maybe make you smile with
one of my terrible jokes, (just kidding, all my jokes are hilarious.) God, this
is the corniest, most awkward thing I’ve ever written. Like I said, I’m not
used to being sincere in my work. It’s easier for me to end this by saying
ninjas jumped out of nowhere and killed everybody with throwing stars, than it
is for me to be honest.
Anyway, all of this is just my way of expressing my love and
happiness. And hell, I didn’t even get into the fact that you’re also smoking
hawt. Totes out of my league.
