any other way

read it twice and breathe it in, anything less is but a sin...

XVII - Neruda

I dont love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
i love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

i love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

i love you without knowing how, or when, or from
where,
i love you simply, without problems or pride:
i love you in this way becuase i dont know any other
way of loving

but this, in which there is no i or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when i fall asleep it is your eyes that close.



love and pixie dust.