today

I feel that valentine's day is a little like drunk dialing. There's an excuse for anything.

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 do me irreplacable 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

Forgive me.