Sweet cares wind my heart towards yours.
            I'm not too simple, and you, your tears flood even onto my dreams.
The waiting for our minds to be one is infinite.
            But you play our romance with tender rage and thought.
            I, though, am sometimes umpire, frequent to judge.
Do I battle the desperation to be right with desiring to kiss sweetly?
            I sit honing my faults with reasons, stabbing flesh upon
                     flesh of devoting tides.
            You surprised me with your pure gratitude of praise just because I said,
            "Wait 'til after rush hour."
Coils of graceful livingness unwind the conch of unrequited concerns.
            I reap a healthy mound of resenting whenever I see blindly.
            You, your toes are even clean.
Why is confusion so precious to a blind heart?
            Fortunately, you listen.
            Every time you confess to love, I believe you.
Thousands of butterflies ripple the sky
            when you stroke my hair.
            Even when loneliness gazes out
            you trouble your soul with mine.
Do you know I love you.

-Tsai