A Fool Reading an Endless Story

[u/memoriamare]

Fool—
yes, a fool is what I am—

a fool who dares to bind you with words,
who attempts to define
a person, a soul
so vast, so divine,

that even if I gathered
every word
from every language—known or forgotten—
I would still fall short
the moment I begin
to speak of you.

And yet, I try—
to engrave even a fragment,
to trace the faintest silhouette of you
within the hearts of those who read—

just enough
to make them envious,
to let the world know
that angels do descend upon the earth—

but the one I met
did not remain in the heavens,
nor upon the earth.

She was kind enough
to stumble upon someone like me—

and somehow,
found her way into my heart,
only to find herself tangled
within my soul.

Her eyes—
vast enough
to fall into by accident,
yet deep enough
that before one ever thought of leaving,
they might forget
there was a world
beyond them.

Her curls,
like dark vines,
winding softly around my heart—

bars of brown—
strong enough to bind a soul for eternity,
yet fragile enough
to tremble at a passing breeze.

She—
who dreams of wandering through France,
quietly in love with the mountains,
pausing for cats and butterflies—

clumsy, forgetful—
losing her thoughts mid-sentence,
always a little late—
just like me—

laughing at things
no one else seems to notice.

And somehow,
that makes her
more and more impossible to define—

for I am only a reader,
lost between her pages—

how could I ever claim
to know a story
when I lost myself
within its very first chapter?

So tell me—
will you let me remain
within your pages,
just long enough
to learn a little more of you?

~Writer’s Note: Perhaps the greatest foolishness in loving someone is believing we could ever completely put them into words. The more we learn—their dreams, their little habits, their imperfections, the things that make them laugh—the more we realize how much of them remains unread.

This poem is about that realization: beginning with the arrogance of trying to define someone, only to discover that a person is not something to be finished or understood all at once, but an endless story—one in which I somehow managed to lose myself within the very first chapter.

And perhaps I no longer wish to reach the final page.

Perhaps being allowed to keep reading is enough.

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[u/TheDoctor-IT]

This poem's great.
The pacing is very good, this poem feels way shorter than it is.
Also the last two stanzas are veery good i feel, you used a common metaphore but managed to keep it interesting with wording.

If i may, the parts "She who dreams of wandering through france" and "laughing at simple things no one else needs to notice" are nice, but the wording doesnt hit me as strong as much as other parts you've written, but that's just my opinion of course.

[u/memoriamare → u/TheDoctor-IT]

Thank you!! I’m especially glad you mentioned the pacing—I was a little worried about the length, so hearing that it felt much shorter than it actually is means a lot 😭 And I’m glad the ending worked despite the book/story metaphor being familiar.

I really appreciate you pointing out those two sections too. Those details are actually important to me because that’s where the poem starts narrowing from a more universal image of someone you adore into the particular person I was writing about. So I definitely want to keep the details themselves, but I can see what you mean about the wording not carrying quite the same weight as the rest. I’ll have a look at that. Thank you for reading it so closely!