How?

How is it even
remotely possible
for me to write down
what you are to me?
The words no-where
near match the endless
nature of what it is
I have come across.
If, by any mischance,
you were to go
I do not know
what will occur.
I cannot picture it.
I think then that
words are inadequate.
So my promise of love
does not suffice.
Words are not eternal
and I think you are.

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