You Will Never Know How Much You Mean To Me

If I could tell you how much you mean to me in words, I would say I love you.

But I love you doesn't even cover how much you mean to me.

The saying "A picture is worth a thousand words" applies to you.

You are worth a thousand- a million- words.

And even one million words wouldn't begin to cover how much you mean to me.

If I could show you how much you mean to me, I would show you a sunset on a hillside, or I'd make you an angel in the snow.

If I could give you how much you mean to me, I'd give you my being.

But even that wouldn't be enough.

Nothing can express how much you mean to me.

Not talking, not words, not showing you, not giving you anything. None of it.

And so I will be the one who will owe you everything I have and stuck with nothing being enough.

You will always mean more to me than you will ever know.

The poem returns to the difficulty of expressing a feeling that words and gestures cannot fully convey.

Each attempt returns to the same problem: words, a gesture, or time together can still feel insufficient.

The sunset and the angel in the snow give that feeling a visible form, even when a direct explanation falls short.

The final line, "You will always mean more to me than you will ever know," leaves the feeling unresolved. The wish to be understood remains, despite the limits of the words.

At the time, I was learning that an imperfect expression does not make the feeling less real.