i don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz, or arrow of carnations that propagate fire: i love you as one loves certain obscure things, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

i love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself, and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose from the earth lives dimly in my body.

i love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, i love you directly without problems or pride: i love you like this because i don’t know any other way to love, except in this form in which i am not nor are you, so close that your hand upon my chest is mine, so close that your eyes close with my dreams.

you came into my life – not as one comes to visit (you know, “not taking one’s hat off”) but as one comes to a kingdom where all the rivers have been waiting for your reflection, all the roads, for your steps.

to. my sun who made me see things i could never see alone.

dec 31 2014 ∞
dec 23 2020 +