I Love You (What Are the Affects?)

What for complex words—such as, I love you—to a complex soul? Is it ever simple, to receive such words, to live an incumbent life? I can’t fathom the value, albeit to live it, that near to mirrors; wherefore—the trauma of love, melded with the glory of love, and falling for love. I try to see it, for more than words, to ponder its affects; this intimate claim, this blacktie event, to set aside as clean; the girth of passion, the laughs and smiles, those irksome moments—to smother with kisses, a stubborn love, to see a melting reply. What for these words—such as, I love you—feeding a soulcave; to see a best friend, to raise a family, to mold progeny. I try to hear it, that aching love, those unsaid words; where tears fall, to love so much, to fathom the existential.

There’s a dream, and quite tangible, to love exclusively; to feel but one, to cringe at folly, to picture the midnight stars; if only to dream, to capture such dreams, as intimate as unskilled love.

What for complex words—such as, I love you—to a complex soul? Is it easy to love, the passion of love, a familiar stranger; to change through seasons—molded through thoughts—to shift and turn and churn and love? I try to touch it, this marvelous entity, founded in actions—plus the deep insights, riddled with haunt, to form a cache. The two become one; this is rich in secrecy, to feel a heartbeat and make a phone call. What for these words—such as, I love you—streaming a mindcave; the restless nights—where love is working—unable to sleep; a genuine moment, to feel the force, to gaze over and lock eyes. Such words—rooted in reception, to give in return; the warmth and width, the shy and wild, driving such love through eternity.