childish innocence

the purest kind of love is probably the kind of love that counts on nothing but its own being.
no talks of the future. it talks not of the past. only now. you and me and here and forever. with the happy power of my childish innocence. i loved like a lost soul. i wandered lost in love. every step of it was a dare. every dare of it was so dear. i wanted nothing out of it but love itself. i got to be no one else but me in it, myself. the only way to keep something so pure is to not keep it. let it exist outside reality. push it outside mundane necessities. only in languages i reminiscent. and i do it quietly.