Love letter # 92

These words are leftovers – barely shells – remainders – for it is the light I bathe in, the tide that takes me.

To love is to breathe – for love is the beautiful verb. The instant eternal. Walking next to you, I stumble gladly upon that twin infinity. Lucky, lucky pilgrim.

Now I have only speech for such miracles. So in my meagre tongue all I need is … I love you, I love you, I love you.

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