And it’s harder to write about love than it is to write
Do I love you because you’re beautiful,
Or are you beautiful because I love you?
I cherish you as my breath,
As the song
of a nightingale.
I found you in the woods and I brought you home;
You were wild, but you have become tame.
I love you more than I love these poems—
Which is to say that I love these poems too.
You are the second-best thing in my life,
The first being so ill-suited for expression.
I’m not quite as good at loving as I am at writing,
And it’s harder to write about love than it is to write
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