Her

She has

the kind of face

to write poetry about.

To spill words

like ink

on page after page,

searching for a way

to describe it.

And yet,

there are never

enough words.

Their meaning,

feels meaningless.

I could travel

to the furthest reaches

of every continent.

Dive

to the deepest depths

of the seven seas,

or soar

to dizzying heights

above the tallest trees.

And yet,

the world would

feel dull,

in comparison

to her.

Even in

a thousand lifetimes,

hard as I try,

I wouldn't ever

find a single sight

more beautiful

than her face,

nor a string of words

capable of capturing

that beauty.

Because

nothing

has ever

or will ever be

more beautiful

to me,

than her.