Truth is, so great, that I
wouldn't like to speak, or sleep,
or listen, or love,
To feel myself trapped, with no fear
of blood, outside time and mag-
ic, within your own fear,
and your great anguish, and
within the very beating of your heart.
All this madness, if I asked it of you,
I know, in your silence, there would be
I ask you for violence, in the nonsense,
and you, you give me grace, your light and
I'd like to paint you, but there are no col-
ors, because there are so many, in my
confusion, the tangible form
of my great love.
Today Diego kissed me (crossed out)
excerpt from "The Diary of Frida Kahlo"