The Woman that I Love

You’re a moonlight sonata.    
I wait for your third movement, so we can dance away together.    
The photons quickly overcome space and time to reach you before I    
can, and the speed of light is faster than the auditability of the words “I care for you”.    
Maybe from this distance, I could use the light’s speed    
and form the shape of a heart with my hands.    
Photons are packages that carry the messages of love that one can see.    
Photons pass from you and me and discuss your beauty like tiny cherubim entering the pupil and telling the brain    
that, far along the plain of visible space, you are existent. They say, “She is there, the woman you love.”    
Therefore, I can perceive your elegant form from far away and know its grace.    
     
Lightning strikes; then, the thunder roars.    
I shout, “Please come to me!”      
But a sight overwhelms you before you can hear my screams    
(it could be that sight is typically stronger than sound).    
There’s a coming mist seeping from beyond the overgrowth and the trees.    
You walk into a place that I cannot see.    
The fog is too thick for me to know of your existence.    
I repent for the time that I have squandered    
because I did not consummate the space and relay to you touch.    
     
The fog separates our two essences and consumes our minds.    
I am beginning to know what lone desperation is.    
Notwithstanding, behold, a vague memory of a tight embrace betwixt your earthen breasts makes my heart to be as the sun,    
and the light is now surging from my chest. I am he who dissipates the darkness    
burning from the hydrogen-love that I found in your atmosphere.    
I may be a mere sun,    
but you are the grand space.    
I only shine to see what you are, and I reach out my yellow hands    
and pierce into the interstellar clouds of your Great Beyond    
where space is immeasurable,    
and I am allowed to see you again.    
     
I became sun when the infinite love inside of you      
detonated and dispersed to establish a love dimension from your heart fragments    
where I can look to you for inspiration and a new beginning.    
I look for the pieces of your heart spread into the darkness    
and take them for myself    
to recreate your heart within my own    
and become ever one with you.      
This is my primal reason for being    
that you and I may give birth to another universe    
and have our heart fragments dispersed throughout space together,    
so that the pieces of your heart will never be alone.    
They will be our heart fragments.    
     
I run into the mist and extend my hand, and you grab it.    
You say to me, “I was never lost from you.”    
The fog ceases,    
and I see your face and a bright smile edged into your cheeks,    
and I can feel one being carved into mine.    
I throw myself onto you with wide octopus arms, and I cry, “I’ve never been loved before. I don’t know how not to feel lonely when you are not here.”    
Your arms slowly close around my upper back, and you speak like a goddess—gently yet firmly,    
“I am in your heart whenever you are alone.”    
I ask like a vulnerable youth, “But how can I know?”    
You squeeze me hard like my blessed mother would,    
so tightly that I can no longer know what body part is mine and which is yours.    
I feel my heartbeat calm to match the rhythm of yours, the melodic one.    
It is then that I begin to believe that we have one heart.      
We are one warmth.    
We are one creature that takes refuge in itself to escape the chilly wintery night—    
a woman-dash-man.    
     
I am in you, and you are in me.    
We’ve crashed into each other and are now scrambled DNA.    
“Do you know what?” I grin. “Anata wa chou seibutsu.”    
‘What does that mean?” you softly question with your light head hanging over my shoulder.    
“It’s a joke. In Japanese, sexy is seibetsu,    
but I told you, ‘Anata wa chou seibutsu,’    
which is to say, ‘You are very biology.’”    
…    
“Ha-ha,” you reply, “you are very biology as well.”