the edges of myself

If i could paint a picture of the

moment

when my heart first became yours–

its edges would blur– the canvas

never sufficient expression.

 

If a machine existed that measured

the point of impact (when my soul

first recognized yours)

it would irrefutably prove

the magnitude of a love–

its fabric stretched across lifetimes.

 

If one created a measure of purity–

my heart would far exceed any other

that has ever come before

or is yet still to follow.

 

Taken apart these pieces of the puzzle

still understand that they express

a much greater whole that is

my love for you.