with your kiss my life begins you’re spring to me all things to me don’t you know you’re life itself?

  • [sunday] Eliza Tsitsimeaua—Untitled

    [sunday] Eliza Tsitsimeaua—Untitled

    Pablo Neruda—Love Sonnet XXII Love, how often I loved you without seeing—without remembering not recognizing your glance, not knowing you, a gentian in the wrong place, scorching in the hot noon, but 1 loved only…