Not Mine to Write

I see you dressed in black and white, like a page from a book I like, as if you're not mine to write. I read you as if you're made of words, Once, twice An avalanche of words into my mind; again, I lose sight of what I want to write. Words in black and white resemble day and night. They paint the mind in ethereal dyes --dark and bright Words are hard to fight, hard to find, they touch you soul, heart, and mind, yet you'd never know what words truly feel like . . .