who am I?  |  my Love  |  poetry  |  why?
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breath

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

-e.e.cummings

     I so often find myself at a loss for words with you, that I almost feel that to even try to explain how I love you is a task I am doomed to fail. You mean more to me than I could ever express, and I love you more deeply than I even thought possible. You have helped me to make changes in my life I never thought I was capable of, and you helped me see a better path for my life, even before we dated. You helped me to come to terms with who and what I am, and for that, I am and will always be in your debt. No matter what happens between you and I, you will always be able to count on me as friend. I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you.