I covered my wall with old photos
So that when I lay alone at night
I’m not
So
Alone.  

Thinking it would fill
That empty void in my heart.
That black hole.
But rather,
It just added more fuel to the flames.  
That burning desire
To not
Be
Alone.

But I can’t help it.
Loneliness comes naturally to me.
As If it were in my DNA.
My veins.

I separate myself from everyone else.
The only friends I have now
Are the face of those plastered on my wall.
The greatest joke of them all;
As if I could fool myself into thinking
That those faces could comfort this lonely soul.

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.