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.

I have the flu
and that is perfect
It's not sarcastic
because now I can be
rotten
on the outside too

Midnight and it's a pitch black
ceiling
I'm staring at
feeling alone
and hating myself
for every little thing
all the muscles
tightening
with stress and regret
How unlovable and pathetic
is wretched me

I like to remember that time
that we went to IHOP breakfast for the first time
You didnt know
but i was really nervous
and you started singing bohemian rhapsody
and i joined in
it made me feel better

being separated from you
is suffocating
and i wonder
if you feel the same