Inadequacy

It is your beauty that makes sense
of my wreckage,
that gives the suffering journey purpose
and passion,
a gift deeper that you realize,
far deeper than skin
or the myths we wrap ourselves in, far
deeper that the English language,
with it’s single paltry word for love
has any hope of communicating,
leaving me with touch and silence and prayers
that you somehow know what I cannot adequately say.