• Jessica Urlichs

How Can I Tell You


How can I tell you, that nothing you stand in front of will ever stand out the same, the day we met nothing was in focus but you.


How can I tell you, that you are my gift that has unwrapped me. Somehow you picked me up and placed me next to myself and I’ve grown so much from there.


How can I tell you, that every time you reach for me, like I’m your star in the sky, I’ve never felt lighter. You’re heavier now, but I know these days are numbered.


How can I tell you, that this road we are travelling together has sometimes felt like a tunnel. I’ve paced the hallways in the small hours of the night in our home, in my mind, both lined with frames of you.


How can I tell you, that you’re the new lines on my face, the strings that pull me in the night and the oversized bag of worry with a zip that never closes.


How can I tell you, that before you, everything seemed in order. Now I’m like the miscellaneous draw of the kitchen and yet somehow, I make more sense than ever.


How can I tell you, that I love your father more than anything, but you, you made my feet land and heart take flight.


How can I tell you, that it’s not me taking you places, but you that’s taking me. Places I’ve visited before seem new with you.


How can I tell you, that even though I feel like the tide dragged in and out, you can still rest on me. I’ll always be your safe harbour.


How can I tell you, that I’ll always carry you. In my spine when I stand a little taller, in my heart when I hear your cries, in my thoughts, always.

Even when I’m alone, I carry you everywhere.


How can I tell you, that nobody’s perfect, an absolute truth but also a lie. As much as there are times I wonder if I can handle your wild heart, there’s never been anyone more perfect for me.


How can I tell you, that the seasons are just long enough to wish away and short enough to miss. You’re the sharp inhale of winter and the summer sun on my back.


How can I tell you, that you are the colours and moments that fly past me as I’m looking out the window.

And also the small hand in mine, that makes it all stand still.

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