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, [never]
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 script
