My red lines aren't veins.

we become a pattern
on each other’s hearts, with red lines.

{they call them veins} but
we know they’re wrong.

our red lines have been defined into
names too scientific to be real.

why would the world become just a scientific
experiment had it not been

for the scientists who had too-broken
hearts and knowledge that did them no good?

it’s humankind’s worst habit
to ignore the things that hurt them most –

but make life the best it ever could be.
and i love you.

i won’t let them tell me it’s wrong or
different. we’re all still made of

love.

it circles in our “veins” and puts
a light in our eyes.

can you see it?
can you see me in my eyes?