And here am I, budding among the ruins with only sorrow to bite on, as if weeping were a seed and I the earth's only furrow.

I want to see the thirst inside the syllables I want to touch the fire in the sound: I want to feel the darkness of the cry. I want words as rough as virgin rocks.” - Verb.

As if you were on fire from within. The moon lives in the lining of your skin.

Loving is a journey with water and with stars, with smothered air and abrupt storms of flour: loving is a clash of lightning-bolts and two bodies defeated by a single drop of honey.

I stood on the balcony dark with mourning... hoping the earth would spread its wings in my uninhabited love.

I have named you queen. There are taller than you, taller. There are purer than you, purer. There are lovelier than you, lovelier. But you are the queen.

I don’t love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz or arrow of carnations that propagate fire: I love you as certain dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.