Pablo Neruda's Love Sonnet XI

i crave your mouth, your voice, your hair
silent and starving, i prowl through the streets
bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
i hunt for the liquid measure of your steps

i hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
i want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

i want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
i want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashs, a

nd i pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

Here's Isla Negra, Pablo Neruda's last home, which is in Chile. Quitratue is also a place in Chile, a barren, desert-like space in the valleys.

Lisa -
I can't believe this is over. How much I love you is hard to explain, because I would always let you down when it came to giving examples of it all. I want to explain, I'm a mess. I barely feel like breathing. When this first happened, I wanted to pretend I wasn't a mess. I wanted to be strong on the outside. But I can't be dishonest anymore. That would be repeating the mistakes I made with you. I need to work really hard to stay in touch with what I really feel. God, Lisa. I'll love you forever. What happens if there is no one else? What happens if they're all as vapid and meaningless as the people before you were? What happens if we really found each other, not for just today, but for tomorrow? I know that over the past couple of months, the times we've felt that connection have diminished. We grew apart a bit, and the last time...at the start of December... I don't think either of us ever really got all the way back after that. But I figure that was because I was going somewhere in my memories that you couldn't go. I could be wrong. I don't know. I don't know anything, and I'm going to be theorizing on this for years, because nothing has ever meant more.
But at the same time, I know now that it is over. If you ever EVER want it to start again, all you have to do is ask, but I won't live like I'm waiting. I still want to be your friend. Not that what I want matters, but I think we're both intelligent enough to know that we offer each other a lot, and we don't need to be unfriendly. I don't think so, anyway.
Anyway, I hope you're doing all the things you taught me to do - looking to yourself for answers, not being impatient... you know. But in any case, this'll be the last of my public declarations of undying love. I'm getting sick of myself here, as you probably are too. That, or you don't care, it's fine, whatever. Whichever you prefer.
I'll see you in class on monday. I miss you like fuck. I hate this existence I unwittingly carved for myself. I wish we could do this better. God, I hate being without you. And that's all there is to it.