What do you know of love, they asked. I know nothing. I know not of words that could describe my thoughts, of songs that could express my emotions or of colors that could paint the pictures in my mind.
But I know of you. I have memorized the outline for your form the way I memorized the embroidered flowers on my sheets. I can close my eyes and see the silhouette of your body. I know all your curves, the nook in your arm or the gaps between your fingers.
I remember the touch of your skin. I have run my fingers on your palm, tracing the lines in your hand, mapping your past, your present and your future.
Your voice resounds in my ears, echoing like a hundred wind chimes, sweet and pleasant. I have memorized your eyes, it’s depths like shadows in the night. I have looked into it a thousand times and each time, I found myself falling.
I see you in my memory as if I’m looking at photographs. I watch you over and over in my mind as if I was watching a film at the cinema.
I know nothing of love but I know of you.