if it were up to me
to redesign the definitions and symbols
associated with love,
I would argue it should not be portrayed as a heart,
but as a circle.
Like the perfect symmetry of the sun when it rises each day,
or the lopsided oval of a tight embrace.
The waning whisper of the moon as it watches,
the O shape of a singer holding that last high note
in a song he wrote
for a girl.
The shape of a band placed around the finger
of those who promise each other their eternity.
Circles are never ending.
They chase their tail round and round forever.
They can be full of flaws and imperfections,
yet remained joined through constantly.
Like two people with their hands clasped,
like the meeting of mouths,
like the roundness of pupils dilated with longing.
if it were up to me,
I would tell you
I circle you round and round
a million times over,
on the wheels of a bicycle.
A bicycle built for two.