I run away from the love in novels,
Because there is only one love I want,
There is only one I know,
Only one I understand.
It seeks a home and establishes it.
It is a roof that shelters you from the storm,
A boat on the river that takes and holds you,
A hot air balloon to see the mountains up close.
Without it, I can do nothing.
If you do not have it,
what is the point of having the world?
What can you do with a second?
I wish you never leave, my gift,
Like the love that writes you this letter,
That lives, yet not nearly as perfect.
JANUARY 26, 2024 (Translation)
YOU ARE READING
The Internet is Not Real
PoesiaTinged with blue light and red eyes, to the warm of heart. Thirteen months of poetic texts and thirteen illustrations. (También en Español: El Internet NO es Real)
