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I do not love you as if you were salt rose or topaz or the arrow of carvations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain things are to be loved, in secrets between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms but carves in itself the light of hidden flowers. Thanks to your love a certain sour fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straight forwardly, without complexities or pride, so i love you because i know no other way.
Than this: where i does not exist. Nor you to close that your hand on my chest is my hand. So close that your eyes close as i fall asleep.
