yes—

at first I would argue,
then I’d de-scribe, or have tried,
so, then I supposed it the time to profess—
you know how they tell you
you fall in love with an image you create—
well that’s how in you each word’s a world,
that you’d dream too real.
but you can personify a word,
as you can anything else,
and so I call my greatest love my heart—
none come closer to who I am,
though many may try to scribe me,
to account for their days;
where are their so loving parts:
embodied, heaven to the touch,
reflecting back bright,
revealing our own capacity to shine:
still, so still be,
that I may hear only mine
and see only yours.

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