Of the many reasons for not writing about you, there is one that overpowers my ability to even try:
So often when I am taking you in, studying your face, registering your charms, listening to you talk to yourself, I am already imagining a time when I will be looking back on the moment trying to assemble it in my mind over and over again.
I don’t have a word for that either. Whatever it is, it causes other words to wilt before they make the page. But I’m willing it give it another go..