on love

I wrote a poem about love the other day, as I've been feeling very much in love with the whole world of late. I posted it on my livejournal, but thought it would probably be appropriate here too:

I am in love with the world,
but I don’t have enough words to say it.
All the people, the animals and plants,
wind, sun and stars,
I am in love with all of it
because it is all here.

I tried to write a poem
going into the most intimate of details
but soon realized
if I were to whisper my love
for one thing
I would have to sing odes
to all existence,
and never stop.

No wonder I don’t talk much.
If I opened my mouth
you would burst into flames
from this intensity.
So love burns my throat instead
and makes my fingers scream
when they are forced to take up the call.
How many notebooks filled
with futile attempts at love?
I lost count
when I started burning them
to stay warm at night.

***

What is love anyway?
Not this desire and longing
for your touch.
We are already touching
from across the room.
Love is not the passionate acts
or charming words
we use to hold each other close.
Every long mile
and aching moment
draws us even closer.

When I say we are in love
I mean we are in love,
like in an ocean,
deep and unfathomable
and covering the whole world.
We are swimming in love,
trying to hold our heads
over the waves
so we can see each other.
But when we give up and drown,
gulping down lung-fulls of love
like rich wine,
our souls stop struggling
and become one.

That is love,
being together,
submerged and stripped bare
of all boundaries.

If you can still feel my skin
pressed against yours,
we are not close enough.
If you can still hear my breath
whispering in your ear,
kiss me so I’ll be quiet.
If you can still see my eyes
drinking quick glances of you
from across the room,
close them and dive in.