Why do we seem to use love only through our hearts?
As if that is the only place that can accept and bear a gift
Some say love can only be felt through the heart
Then why do my eyes begin to water
When I look at how depth can be held in such a simple matter, explored, a cave carved in the symbolism behind its seemingly bland front walls
Why does my skin begin to boil into ecstasy when you touch me
Or when a certain melody jumps into my veins, playing its tune from the steps of my feet and the language in which it follows up to my throat
Love is the temple that encompasses my body, the essence of my life
It does not need such commitments to what it is expected to be
Blossoms into many foretold tales
A mystery… yet speaks this language into existence
Love is which one holds awareness
