I love you as to invite you to step on dry leaves in one of these afternoons.
I love you as to go for a walk,
to talk about love, while we kick pebbles.
I love you as to laugh endlessly,
drunks with nothing and strolling the streets without haste.
I love you as to go with you to the places I go most often and tell you
that's where I sit and think about you.
I love you as to listen to your laughter all night long.
I love you as to never let you go.
I love you as one loves certain Loves,
the old-fashioned way, with my soul and without looking back.
****
© Emby Lat
Thank you for reading this. If you liked my writing, please subscribe and click the little heart below this piece or near my name, at the top of this page.
If you liked this, you might also like this:
About the Creator
Emby Lat
I like movies, technology, games, art and anything that I find interesting.
A Failed Artist, A Disillusioned Poet, An Underpaid Game Show Host
I took my son and niece to Gori, a small town in Georgia where Joseph Stalin was born. They talked me into visiting the Stalin's Museum, the largest in the post-Soviet space. I had resisted going there because I just can't stand the monster and know enough about him, or so I thought.
By Lana V Lynx7 days ago in FYI
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.