too late to love you

like a ladybug, my thoughts walk on tiptoes
toward a leaf of a rose, shaded by its petals
full of crystalline dew from a dream's origin
where was never too late to love you, subtly
this hysterical lust kept in my coded essences
for five long years, you felt it, too, on your lips,
hunting me musically in a bouquet of red wine,
just enough for your whispers to kiss my body
i lost even my thoughts' number full of spirit,
since i've been loving you… metamorphosed
in a rain of a summer, in a season of the sun,
saluting inquiringly, our love's bizarre strategy


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