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

you felt it, too, on your lips, for five long years,

hunting me musically in a bouquet of red wine,

sufficiently 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.