Letter, February 19, 2015

There is a depth in me only your silence can touch; for that, beloved, you must become the dawn, the still eye of light, so that I could become the poem, the flower exhaling her fragrance into your luminous heart. Together, perfume and light, we’ll melt all shadows as we become a being forged of love, a heart so pure it beats wide as the desert sky.

2 thoughts on “Letter, February 19, 2015

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