19. My Sweetheart

No, my sweetheart
I love you
like the sun loves the sea
at the crack of dusk;
as the dew rises from soil,
steaming.

Oh, my sweetheart
I need you
as a butterfly needs a flower
deep in bosom of an
ageless mountain of echoes,
towering.

So my sweetheart
I beg you,
accept my heart I offer you,
as it trembles
in the cup of my palms,
sweating.

Woe, my sweetheart
I lost you
in the midst of our tongues
fallen silent,
as we hear only my love,
dying.

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