I was reading City of Lost Souls by Cassandra Clare earlier and came upon a line from Pablo Neruda’s poem. It was one of my favorite poems and I cannot resist the pull of posting it here since it is far too intimate for FB. Here’s the poem…
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. "
— Pablo Neruda
I don’t know if it was a coincidence or some stupid concoction of my overly assuming mind, but I have fallen prey to infatuation again. I’m afraid to be infatuated for the things I do only add to the things I was ashamed of. I am tired of looking like a fool in front of the person I like. And I am tired of gnawing ache that I could not seem to shake off every time I think of that person.
Because of you, the heady perfumes of
Summer pain me; because of you, I again
Seek out the signs that precipitate desires:
Shooting stars, falling objects."
— Pablo Neruda
Thus, I should have a job soon. Something to preoccupy my mind.
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