Questioning Love

If Shakespeare said, ‘Love is…The ever-fixed mark, that alters not when it
alteration finds’,
Then how tight is the web that I’m afraid I wind
About this love, this sacred heart
This beating, fragile bird of love?

This blind devotion, unquestioning loyalty, faithful yet not perfect
Oh
Will I ever be happy in the knowledge of you, or,
More pointed still
Happy in the knowledge of me?