Sonnet XXI

Why is it that the mere mention of your name can make my heart beat so;
What rhythm do you dance, that drags me along in its wake so lightly?

If you exist always just outside of my reach, the figment that I follow,
Then how did I ever catch you, and how did I hold you in my arms?

Are you the manifestation of some strange otherworldly attraction,
Or are you the shape of gravity, claiming all that stray too near?

How is it that you change my brain’s chemistry in this way,
That whenever you’re gone I can’t think, but about you?

What did your lips say to mine, or your hand to mine,
That told them that no others can ever compare?

Who are you, O Siren singing on the edges,
To convey how I am to remember you?

Even if these lines got shorter,
I doubt I’d find your answer.