you talked to me in sonnets
or metaphysical poetry --
you said it all, in little words.
I was never any good at it,
unable to describe you in
only 14 lines, unable to
describe you even in novels.
writing about love is like
translating Shakespeare --
the subtleties are always
lost -- and in my many
inadequate attempts to
put you on paper, I've
never managed to make
you understand what
happens to my heart
each time you smile.

Because there are no sides and
It doesn't matter what you believe
Or who you are
There is no left or right
We are all feel the same
Maybe a little broken
Or flawed or angry
It is a respite and relief from pain
It is spoken from the soul and to the soul
And it is the only time
That I can be fully human