I do not love you as if you were a rose of delicate pink
nor a sharp arrow of a Mum's crimson passion:
I love you only as one who keeps secrets of love
hidden beneath layers of soul and rows of heart.
I love you as if each flower that is allowed to bloom
keeps the true beauty of itself hidden within;
yet allows the fragrance of its love to rise upward
towards the Earth to fill our bodies with its aroma.
I love you without understanding how or why,
I love you instantaneously without thought,
I love you like this because I must always;
for in this form I am not me and you are not you
except as your heart becomes emblazoned into mine,
except as our bodies are tangled together as one.
(This was written for a contest with a Pablo Neruda sonnet as my inspiration)
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