que una vida...

I love you like the cold loves snow.

People go trying to find their importance,

but really only go after their desires.

I am so lucky.

Everything I know is in you.

I need neither importance nor desire,

only you: in infinite ways of description.

Words form sentences,

that are conceived from my thoughts.

They don’t give in to what I think,

nor could they ever complete me.

It is you that I need:

a completion that someday,

I will feel.

It is you in an early morning,

or when you can't sleep at night.

It's you in the afternoon,

Or when you feel as though you can only cry.

These are the times I want to be by your side.

I want more than ever to be there.

When you feel no love.

When Atlas puts the world on your shoulders,

I want to be there to take it off.

When you doubt faith,

I want to tell you everything is yours to create.

Our fate will be ours to mold.

And you may not know this,

but I am yours to hold;

to beckon in anyway you desire.

I am yours and yours alone, for days and for months.

It will be for centuries that our love is told.

You make me more than what I could be.

A man is a simple term to say,

but I am this way—

because you simply love me.