
You and wine and candlelit nights. You are all I need. You are my religion, my universe, my mantra, my heart.

The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.
Rumi

I’ve never felt so homesick as when I woke up this morning without you. I miss you, my loving man. I’ll be home soon.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
Pablo Neruda

For so many months, this table was my sanctuary; I would sit here for hours a day and communicate with you, dream of you, pray to planets for us. This table is a sacred place for me. Here, I gave you my trust and love; my most precious gifts.

Early on I knew my love for you was worth any risk; my shoulders braced for our future like the fragile wings of the sparrow. Diving into the unknown I trusted the first fall would not bring an end to my life but a destined, indescribable, beginning.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.
Pablo Neruda


