Love me. Before it blossoms
the last-forgotten picture,
and thoughts saturated to white,
to fall from the cracked frame.
Love me now. While there is
the reality, untouched by the days,
and only the impossible is a snare,
tightened on your strong wrists.
Love me when you circle
the time has a form of cynicism,
and the roads are steeply conscious.
Only then do you love me?
Goodbye and Kisses ...