Love is a language dumb, does not require a voice to identify it. Perhaps
other noises such as footsteps.
Steps are loved the sound of love tonight.
Before love, have steps.
are the whispers that space of love, because love is an infinite space-informed to know that his creatures back, that is, away. Glitter steps over bodies when too many goodbyes. Steps
fire on the back when love is smoldering and litter. Steps
be asleep not to wake up and be forgotten.
Steps leave no scars in the footsteps of a kiss looking noon.
Before and after love the steps as children, climbing stairs and giving birth to stars in the aisles the penumbra.
The steps are lovely gifts you love, feeling them yet, still remembering, back to mind as an echo, there, at night, when you think everything is asleep, they are, like love, vibrating.
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