It's the fire no ocean could quell,
a heat beneath skin, searing
through every pulse, an electric hum
of being alive in the presence of another.

Love is an uncharted storm
raging quietly in the veins;
no hands can grasp it,
no mind contain it,
it slips, shifts, floods every silence
with the whisper of its impossible need.

And yet, it's delicate, too;
the breath that catches
between words,
the glance that folds
time upon itself.
It's in the empty space
between bodies
where all things combust
and surrender.

It breaks you open,
but it's the breaking
that keeps you whole.
It's the longing that lives
inside you forever,
a flame that neither ends
nor begins;
just burns. And burns.
Because love is always too much,
but never enough.