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
