wounded souls are drawn to their kin.
jagged edges crash together,
slicing each other apart in vain hopes
that through this, they can be made whole again.
is this not what love is?
i have found light in their eyes
and home in the warmth of their voices,
the hollows of their bodies and hearts dutifully memorized.
is this not what love is?
devotion unending is my offering,
bared fully in both soul and body.
is this not what love is?
they have partaken of me as they wish,
and i have allowed it.
is this not what love is?