I Think It Is Love

 

I Think It Is Love

 

It is a singular feeling

to have eyes fall upon you,

and to know you have been seen in full.

There is no wall that can hide

the fluttering heart.

(Her) gaze has unraveled me –

stretched my skin from end to end,

wrapped my heart and lungs in a bow

of my veins. There’s not a facet of me

that isn’t laid bare.

 

Thick as blood, its life-

force permeates the moments

when we hold staring contests.

Do you hear the strings swell

as the Second Waltz trots into view?

At once magic and melancholy –

my ribs are all that keep my leaping heart

from jettison as my fingers interlace hers.

 

Here Time has no bounds.

I live every innocent embrace,

every generous laugh,

every brushstroke and brushed string,

every make-believe wrestling match

and ceaseless teenage spat.

I live them all at once.

 

I think it is Love.

 

I don’t know what kind.

 

But that singular word:

crowned with capital ‘L’;

courting clichés, all too weak,

tap-dancing off my tongue

into air so seldom sweet…

 

It is

 

Love.