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A little advice.
Instead of asking him or her out, send ’em Neruda.
If you might love someone, but do not know what love is. If they might lust, but have not imagined that they love you, and they are sometimes sad. If you have loved them for years, and lusted, but felt quiet beneath his gaze, or too caring beneath hers.
…Instead of asking him out, instead of asking her out, instead of telling him you want more, instead of telling her you want it all, send him or her Pablo Neruda. ~ ed.
I do not love you
as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
~ Pablo Neruda
More: Letting Go Isn’t Pretty.