I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

you fell in love with his eyes,

and then his face.

you fell in love with his laugh,

and then the sound of his voice.

you fell in love with his quirk,

and then all of his flaws.

you fell in love with his present,

and then with his past as you knew more.

you fell in love with his brokenness,

and then his whole.

you fell in love with the idea of him,

and then with him.

(p)

If you listen carefully enough you can hear her voice break as her words smash off the rocks of her insecurities.