I want to be love,
caressing them like snowflakes
on a new year eve.

I want to be
the darkish blood, gushing
on a smooth plateau of skin.
I want to be
the pure white of surf, rushing
back and forth my soul.
I want to be
the shimmering wall of rain,
tap-dancing on our terrace.
I want to be
the linger of lemon leaves,
after they’re crushed and deserted.

I want to be love,
and every other thing
that could be love.