This poem made me think of you:
Hope you're feeling better today.

MAJELLA KELLY
BLUE
When I can’t find a noun for what you are
to me, I think of how there was no word
for blue in ancient Greek. Was it simply
beyond description or were they so exposed
to the colour they became fatigued to it?
Did they just identify what was useful
and disregard the rest? And are there other
colours we haven’t found a name for yet?
Like when I first went to introduce you
and found I’d sailed beyond the wine-dark
horizon of my lexicon. (The word Boyfriend
must have gotten set adrift somewhere
between middle-age and girlhood.) This is my…
lover, I said, but others got uncomfortable
as if we’d taken all our clothes off.
What can I say? Not partner, not other-
half. Not soul-mate, not object of affection.
Not knight in shining armour, not Prince
Charming. Not my darling, my stud-muffin.
Nor pumpkin, honey, sugar, sweetie-pie.
This is my…cerulean, I’ll say, my sapphire.
He’s my cyan, my Aegean. You are midnight,
you are electric. You are sky and sea
to me and every other shade Homer had
no name for between violet and green.