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
