I am so full of love

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.