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.