An Apt Description....

Love Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as if you were a salt rose, or topaz
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

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.

Because of Radio Silence...

Did I mention how beautiful you look today?

And how amazed I am at the way you pull it off so effortlessly?

Each time you speak to me...

Each time you look at me...

Each time I'm in the vicinity of you...

I feel your love...and I love you back.

You're beautiful, inside and out.

You're irresistible...and you're so easy to love.

Today's Whitman, Vol. 2

Again, from Leaves of Grass,

O YOU WHOM I OFTEN AND SILENTLY COME

O you whom I often and silently come where you are that I may be with you, As I walk by your side or sit near, or remain in the same room with you, Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is
playing within me.