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