Sound of thunder
Persists. Like my yearning for you.
Clouds under me.
Clouds above you.
Another one to the regret list - not having made love while bolts ligthen the sky and thunder rumbles in the street. The perfect soundtrack to echo the exhilaration of our love turned momentaneous passion, followed by the cosiness of our embrace while we cuddle under the blankets.
Just random thoughts, triggered by a quantum proximity that I keep wishing for every time we are physically apart (were we?), knowing it vanished (did it?)
Fate, up against your will
I might see the mountains. I might see the sun reflection on the Mont Blanc. I won't see you.
My fate, up against my will.
Less than rational
It is the same in the realm of thought and feeling —
emotional fizziness and intellectual disruption.
Drunk on love and bubbling new insights.
We are not a brain in a box, separate from our bodies, our senses, and the billions of microbes that live within us.
Love, sex, desire, hunger, and the need to be together may make us less than rational.
We may live in a world of our own imagining, but it allows us to dance, sing, and do a thousand things that machines may never be able to do without programming.
Reasoning
Was not our forte. Rationally, it was clear: we shouldn't, we couldn't.
And yet we got closer and closer. I knew I shouldn't yet, there I was, saying good morning. You knew you shouldn't, yet there you were, your smile barely hiding the light in your eyes. We knew we couldn't, yet we wanted. We wanted to feel each other, embrace each other, belong to each other.
We tried, I don't know how many times. And now, it's trying.
It's very trying, very tyring. Seeing just a glimpse, digitally blurred, of your smile when there was a glimmer of hope. Or, maybe, just the joy of carelessness.
That was the path: knowing we should stop, but having you say "don't stop". Saying there is no way, yet holding you at every opportunity: your hand, your torso, your kiss. Being happy, rather than feeling the misery of the other one absence.
And yet, yet, here we are, far apart. Irrationally apart. Apart for a rationality that seems as irrational as our reasoning to be together.
I think you Loved me. I know you did. I can see it in the only picture I have of us together. I don't know if you have it, perhaps you decided to forget it. You were smiling. I was smiling. You were lovely, because your eyes shined. And I suspect they shined from our closeness.
I love you. I hope you know it.
Bloody distance. Bloody cowardeness. Bloddy wastefulness of a precious soul. Of a fragile heart.
I know you have mended it. Someday I will need to know. Someday I will write you, direspect all my promises. I promised I wouldn't write, wouldn't call, would be just another phantom. Why did I do so? It's blurry. Did you ask me to leave you in peace? Did you ask me to leave you in peace while I was a coward? Did you ask me to leave you in peace until you mended your heart? And did I ask you to at least let me know? Would you do so?
Maybe our farewell was not what it should have been. Maybe there should have not been a farewell.
God, how I miss you.
An illusion
Often I crave that we meet, and dare imagining it. Writing you. Then, a chance encounter somewhere in the world. A flight diverted to Geneva, and dropping a message so we can meet. Start driving and stopping only at your door, ringing and waiting.
I never imagine the aftermath. What would be the use of such a fleeting moment? I would be ravished, certainly I would, by the delight of seeing you, hearing you, maybe feeling you (who knows, tasting you).
But I miss you everyday. Why would I create the illusion of a moment? Why would I subject to have my arse kicked by the one who might have saved you? (Albeit, that may serve me, for all the pain I caused, and to make me feel the suitable reward for not being brave, not being sensitive, not translating my love for you into loving you)
And therefore, I write you not. I sometimes try subtely to tell you I still exist. Not sure why. Maybe I want to write, and then I realize I don't deserve anything. You gave me everything, I was not galant enough to accept it. I was not a man. I was not decent. I was a coward.
Just an illusion, that it would make any sense to see you again. Just an illusion that we'll even speak again. Just an illusion that I will read your loving words ever again.
And yet, today, you spoke to me again. The sole picture we are together. Your eyes shined, and it was not, at the time, an illusion. It was real. You were real. Might you still be real?
I wonder
Where you lay your head tonight.
To whom you show that dreams can be real.
And I want to be him
Tracing the turns of your bossom,
Drawing in your scent,
Unveiling all the magic you have treasured within
Thank you
For showing up in my dream tonight.
Should not be a dream - should be real. Our morning kiss should not be a painting - should be warm and cozy. My wishes should not be a chimera - should be acted upon.
Do you feel it too?
And I know that you feel it too
When my skin turns into glue
You will know that it's warm inside
And you'll come run to me
In the cold, cold night
In the cold, cold night
In the cold, cold night
In the cold, cold night
I loved you in the morning
our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow
like a sleepy golden storm
as I wander in my time,
walk me to the corner,
our steps will always rhyme
you know my love goes with you
as your love stays with me,
it's just the way it changes,
like the shoreline and the sea,
but let's not talk of love or
chains and things we can't untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
And then we made love under the stars
Why, why, why did I went away?
Why, why, why was it always a rush, not allowing us to peacefully enjoy?
Why, why, why did I waste how you made me happy?
Everlasting memories. I can't see you in the picture, but I can feel your love all around. I swear I sometimes can hear you whisper.
(And yet, you are surely long gone)
I want to reach out
Is there even a way?
I say hello. You say what the fuck do you want?
I say I don't know. You say why the fuck did you even say something then?
I say I miss you. You say go fuck yourself daniel.
And yet I know you would never use these words, not even in anger.
But you would feel them inside, and it would cause pain, yet again, 3 years later more pain.
So, I cannot reach out.
(And yet I miss you everyday, I struggle with not knowing your whereabouts)
Dream
So real, I could feel to hug you. Soft, gentle, firm, melting hug.
I did not want to wake up. Just remain there, chatting, walking side by side, exploring the world together.
And the dreadful awakening is knowing it's just a dream but could have been reality.
I have nothing else.
Nothingman
Walks on his own...with thoughts he can't help thinking...
Future's above...but in the past, he's slow and sinking...
Caught a bolt 'a lightnin'...cursed the day he let it go...
I could have been
Ah, the moon's too bright
The chain's too tight
The beast won't go to sleep
I've been running through these promises to you
That I made and I could not keep
Not even a faint sign
That you are happy, accomplished, well. That you look forward to 2023. That rainbows come after the storm. That we know life is like a box of chocolats.
Nothing. Just emptiness.
And who am I to complain? You have neither faint signs - a Christmas message is a good for nothing, why would a New Years matter?
And you had no faint signs for years. Better for me to rot far away, where I chose to be. I, no one else.