but tonight my soul aches.
It is twisted and contorted,
tied up in boy scout knots.
My love for him is a force of nature.
The moons of our galaxies
causing a gravitational pull
never meant to be understood.
Holidays are dedicated to
happy red childlike hearts.
Country songs bellowing
of broken hearts and dreams.
But what about my aching soul?
It is the core of my being,
unseen by the human eye it defines me.
I think my soul is where my love lives,
not in my red crayon heart.
My soul aches tonight
longing to be touched, to be stroked.
How does he touch my soul
when he cannot actually see it?
My soul cannot be kissed
nor can it be caressed.
But I swear he touches it,
even his words make it dance.
Mythology talks of Zeus
fearing the power of humans.
Dividing us into two beings
destined to wander aimlessly
on an unknown journey to find
the soul that completes us.
My soul knew long before my heart
that he somehow made me whole.
Is the infamous undefinable love that simple?
Is the commercialized love
depicted in drawings of red crayon hearts
simply a fulfillment of
my mythological search for completion.
To hell with intellectual understanding.
I am condemning the definition
of what love is supposed to be.
For tonight I want to lay naked
alongside his nakedness
tangled in his limbs.
I want to lose all thought
in the hunger of his kisses
and the depths of his thrusts
as his existence strokes my aching soul.
