I Could

I could take your complex words.
Read them. Edit them. Make them heard.
Risk using one of them like a bird
I borrow in the wind. Every third verse.
I could drain one; wring it dry.
Form a gentle lullaby.
I could listen with a sigh.
Feel despite the pace being too fast to hear every word I find like mine.
I could take your meaning.
Visualise it dreaming. Even cry the longer you say each one with your heart screaming.
I could sort the words into my perfect sentence.
Expand them into my own remembrance. Vicariously think what it would be like just you and me.
I could have them be a part of my life like you held them part of yours.
I could.