Author's Note: I do not own Supernatural, these characters or any of Pablo Neruda's beautiful poetry

I do not love you, as if you were heaven, or God

Or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off

I love you, as certain people are to be loved

In secret, between the grace 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 Impala, 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 you do not exist, nor I

So close that your hand on my shoulder is my hand

That my eyes close as you fall asleep