The Defeat of Philematology

When our lips embrace in flaming kisses,
And our tongues lead rivers of saliva,
We drink each other, thus, in little pieces,
And our life begets our love's revival.
So every time we kiss, our souls accrue,
For when our lips do part, the particles
Of you in me make me part you, and you
Part me from mine in you. Such articles
Of love provide the basis for one art
Whereby we trump philematology,
So cold, impersonal, and lacking heart,
And found ourselves our own ontology.
   Our love is single, for though we are two,
   There's just one couple made of me and you.