So Full

I’m so full,  I’m brimming with words and emotions that rise and fall like the crest of a wave. I try to write my compassion, my adoration and anger and grief, but alas, I am lost. The paper is too weak a thing to hold the blood of my heart, and the pen is too soft a device to stitch the wounds of my flesh. It will never matter however many times I rewrite my imperfections– I will always be human. And, the mortality of my soul will always be but a plague for I will never know, in this lifetime or the next, another word for the love I feel.