If only I could paint melodies

If only i could paint and sing oh well,

i could escape this prison of language,

how do i write to you the way you smell,

there is nothing left of it to salvage.

If i could give you a picture of it,

you would see the colours words don't possess,

If i could make a melody for it,

you would hear the sounds speech can't profess.

I could get so close to pouring my heart,

the pen can only let out so much ink,

cursed to be near yet so far apart,

perhaps you will never know what I think.

who reads poetry these days, who knows pain,

never mind, words have betrayed me yet again...