a poem about nothing (napwrimo 2021: day 8)

sometimes, words aren’t enough: there's the infinite and the
ubiquitous, overlapping when it comes to you – all my
poems are a clear indication of that. what's left to say when
everything has already been said? i want you, it’s truly
remarkable – the depth of the sea of yearning you’ve
created. sometimes i wonder if i’m just a living vessel meant to
abate the inevitable – you know, the forbidden word:
love –

it’s an understatement, it’s akin to setting fire to the
future. there’s easier routes to death, and here we are
reading one another’s poetry, scavenging for meaning in
all the words we’ve authored. i almost rather that you
gouge out my eyes – gazing into your eyes reminds me of
infinity, and i can no longer tolerate it. to know of
love and to live it, are two different things and
i no longer want to know of love – i want the
sunlight to position and hit only me in a crowded room, i want
tea to stay perpetually warm, and to drink it and you,
in a lithe world.

can i be honest with you? if just for one moment,
each word i pluck for you seems to stained of a shade of
xanthous yellow – are you the sun?
perhaps, you’re the moon tonight and
i resign to a fate of being a celestial body caught in
a elliptical orbit of you, i spend little time with you, and more time
lamenting of your absence. is an apology owed?

i’m sure in another life we were only apart in our
dreams, reality would’ve been promising -
offering aromas of jasmines, sandalwood, and
chocolate. our sweet nothings were saccharine enough,
i think.
of all your honeyed words that crystalized (and i really do
understand), i think it’s time to melt the first one again, and
soak in it – i never know what’s next to vanish.

an acrostic, prompt: supercalifragilisticexpialidocious as suggested by star in the napowrimo thread.