This is a scheduled post planned to be published at 10.11.2015 at 14:46
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexitites 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.
- Pablo Neruda, SONNET XVII
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