My poetry is like my guitar playing: I can strum a few chords, just enough to make a recognizable tune, but nothing too complicated. Nobody would pay to hear me play. I play just well enough to truly appreciate people who can really play. And though I lack talent, I still have a passion for guitar music. I love it, despite how inept I may be at making it.
Likewise, I’ve never been able to write a proper poem to describe what your love means to me; I’ve never composed a rhyme that aptly sings the praises of you. But I’ve finally figured out why: It’s not any shortcoming of talent on my part, nor a lack of desire to do so; it is because you are the poem. I cannot distill you into mere words, regardless of my skill, for they could never do you justice.