Favorite poem of the day (Like most writers who can't write their own poetry, I have about eleventy billion favorite poems)
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp;
Guns aren't lawful;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
And hey, what do you know:
|Which poem are you?|
Sonnet 17 by Pablo Neruda
Aw, you're a romantic. You believe in true love and all that sort of stuff. How cute are you? To you, love is incredible and amazing.
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I do not love you as if you were the 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.