Photo: Le Croisic – Tempête by ThierryB. https://www.flickr.com/photos/46891291@N02/ Summer love does not wait for long-winded diatribes It does not fester and spring upon the fool
You are my HIV, my perfect disease.
My eventual downfall, the perpetual hum that slowly diffuses sweet poison into every scene we star in.
Being Latino, you can’t talk about ‘it’ unless you first cushion your sentence with a couple of “God Bless Us” and “Que Dios nos Ampare,” followed by twisting the sentence into a life lesson of sorts.
VIII. You have a fire burning in your heart.