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    Love.

    Because of you, in gardens of blossoming
    Flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring.
    I have forgotten your face, I no longer
    Remember your hands; how did your lips
    Feel on mine?

    Because of you, I love the white statues
    Drowsing in the parks, the white statues that
    Have neither voice nor sight.

    I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice;
    I have forgotten your eyes.

    Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to
    My vague memory of you. I live with pain
    That is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
    Make to me an irreperable harm.

    Your caresses enfold me, like climbing
    Vines on melancholy walls.

    I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to
    Glimpse you in every window.

    Because of you, the heady perfumes of
    Summer pain me; because of you, I again
    Seek out the signs that precipitate desires:
    Shooting stars, falling objects.

    "
    — Pablo Neruda (via kushandwizdom)

    (via g-o-o-d-v-i-b-r-a-t-i-o-n-s124)

     
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  8. (Source: weheartit.com, via desteneee)

     
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