13 January 2021,
Three months already without your voice in my ear, or your face in front of me, three months of pain and hurt. But I can only imagine how it feels to you: the brave man that you are, I admire you for that. Thus I am fascinated by how you read people better than I do, how you turned me into a human again, and how beautifully your image sits in my head. I owe you my humanity, my sanity, my progress, and my happiness.
This is for you. My always.
On the window where she used to lay her soft cold hands, as her eyes gazed at the starry
nights, holding tears of joy and happiness, she remembers how happy she was once upon a time, and to that she tears a little, through the pain of the thought, she smiles: out of the joy of it happening, the spark of having the opportunity to live as hard, to love a true, and be as human.
She lost sleep to some over-thinking episode: the goals that she set for herself, the reason for our existence, the why for the but, and so on. With a playlist of sad music in the background, she dives into the world of nothingness. The void that absorbs her whole.
In that emptiness, she catches a hand laying on the edge of a bed, a floating bed filled with
tulips and lilies, where the only ray of sun hits on that mesmerizing creature. The hand is
artistic, manly, and poetic: blue-veined, ripped from a heavenly figure, his grip was enthusiastic, illuminating to the touch. Our dear doesn’t think twice about it and grabs it as if it was a rope of hope, as she held on to it as such, they fell off to a whole another universe, a word of perfectionism, where he took her on the best date of her life, kissed her as if he’s going to lose her, loved her, deeply, truly. Where he caressed her face, looked at her in the eyes while making love, ran his fingers on her divine body only to draw tiny hearts all over. he laid on her belly half-naked while holding glasses of some fine wine talking about life and making plans as if there was nothing that could stop them. They laid in the same bed where they found each other and promised to never let go. And on the same bed it all collapsed, he went to his side of it as she did, for each to fall far apart.
They loved each other, but they were not meant to be. Numb to the thought of it she wakes up from her lucid dream to find that it has been hours, and it’s already 8 am. Her make up found its way to her face and food to her stomach and head off to another day, filled with broken promises and sad truths, but she knew, and for the first time, he took her away from everything that would break her, so she can see that herself is all that
she needs.
We live in dreams and die in hopes, but exist in reality but don’t own the power of mortality, in our fantasy perhaps, we might, one day, we might do.