i love how ridiculous we are.
i love how when our eyes meet, it's not a staring contest but to see who'll pull away first.
the blush that grows on your cheeks is in clusters.
you let me hold your hand.
i love how ridiculous we are.
wine glasses filled with apple juice,
strawberries,
little sandwiches that i'll be too nervous to eat but i would for you.
i would eat for you.
i love how ridiculous we are.

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.