I loved you as one loves the first sniff of a *** of instant coffee,
and I loved you as one loves a slight breeze on a slight day.
I loved you as a tree loves its leaves,
and thus I held the winter in disdain.
I loved you as one loves the artful blurs of city lights
succumbing to each other in the September rain.
I loved every slip of my tongue against my teeth
as I set your name out in the world on display.
I loved you like the last unread book on the shelf,
and I loved you like verbosity could not conceivably convey.
And though I loved not like a song, nor like a ballad or an ode,
I loved you with intensity that one could never feign.