If I could say how I feel it would certainly scare you.
They aren't mere words, they are pulses of love.
Electric vines entwined between your lips and mine.
It could not be more simple-- this is love.
Love beyond greeting cards. It surpasses
Shakespeare, it could not be acted or played out
In any way, it could only be you and I,
On a train from Rome to Venice, with
My head on your lap, your hand in my hair.
It can't be written out in detail, but I could show you.
If I could take a picture
Of your hand, wrapped inside of mine.
Your shoulder tucked below my arm.
Your cheek against my body, softly.
Your heart inside my heart.