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Confession - Charles Bukowski Waiting for death as a cat that will jump on the bed feel very sorry for my wife she will see this stiff and white body will shake it maybe shake it again: hank! and hank will not answer it's not my death that worries me, it's my wife left alone with this lot of nothing. yet I want her to know that sleeping every night by her side and even the most banal discussions were truly splendid things and the difficult words I've always been afraid to say can now be said: I love you.

I love you without knowing how, nor when, nor where. I love you without simply without problems, nor pride: love you thus because I do not know to love of another form. Pablo Neruda s2