"I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times, in life after life, in age after age forever."
-Rabindranath Tagore
It is difficult to resist the onset of love
the sinews of which strangle the taut flesh
of a pulsing heart until it drops
heavy in the chest, with its last futile thuds
rampant beneath the skin
as they are muffled and skipped into the throat
to become that telltale lump
(with all the smoothness of a flat stone
that cuts across water
before it is lost to the depths.)
And so I am lost to you.
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