When beauty is felt and not seen...
when we feel it within ourselves
and beyond ourselves...
from the center of our ribs
to the farthest reaches of the unknown...
when we go blind and suddenly see everything
more clearly and vividly...
when we need not our hands to touch
or our mouths to kiss
or our tongues to tangle
or our bodies to collide...
when we leave the sensations of our bodies
in their twisted agony
and dance of lust under sheets
while the spark and electricity
of our beings traverse the stars...
when beauty consumes us
and becomes us
and makes us something new...
when we speak without words...
when we hear songs from the silence...
when we tremble from things
other than fear...
when we our lost to everything
but a dream weaved from the threads
and blood of our hearts...
when beauty is felt and not seen...
is this not love?