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.