The rain

falls softly. It penetrates the pores of the earth, so that thirsty roots can survive and later spurt.

Where does it stop, on it's way down? Will it encounter a mystic world?

She was silent for a few moments. Was her heart beating like mine? I do not know, but her hand did not tremble as I held it. We had gone about a hundred paces without a word.

“Axel!” she said, finally.

“My dear Graüben?”

“That will be a wonderful journey.”

The drain

Is always open. My soul fades through it.

Too deaf, dumb and blind

to see the damage I've done.

Broken down and hungry for your love

with no way to feed it

Realizations II

As-tu cessé de m’aimer ! ! Pardon, âme de ma vie, mon âme est tendre sur de vastes combinaisons. Mon cœur, entièrement occupé par toi, a des craintes qui me rendent malheureux. Je suis ennuyé de ne pas t’appeler par ton nom. J’attends que tu me l’écrives.

Adieu ! Ah ! si tu m’aimes moins, tu ne m’aurais jamais aimé. Je serais alors bien à plaindre.

In her face

The mirror of your dreams

Show no fear

For she may fade away

I feared, ran away, and, so she faded away from my life.

Lazy wake up

With no worries. With a hug. With a kiss. With an embrace.

With a ray of sun shining reflecting in a lock of your hair. With your eyes still closed, and  your sleepy voice saying "good morning".

Could have happened. Should have happened. With me.

And must be happening. Not with me.

When you're lost in the dream

Running away is easy

It's the leaving that's hard

Running away is easy

Running away is easy

It's the living that's hard

And loving you was easy

It was the leaving that scarred

Running away

I've continuously ran away in my life. Sometimes, staying in the same place, frozen, silent, absent.

At first I had to run away from my parents arguing. Schoolmates picking on me. Thiefs trying to rob. When my grandmother died, I simply took off from the house, and went crying by myself in the fields, under a vineyard. 

I got used to long journeys by train, and after getting my license, by car. I would go on a constantly walkabouting no matter the age. I loved long walks in the mountain, just to get away from my world.

And you saw like no one that dark side of me. Suffering at each time I ran away. I didn't mean to hurt you. I was running away from myself, not you. Afraid of I don't know what.  I ran away too often. Physically, and even when I wasted our time by not hugging you all night long. Physically close, but frozen.

Not sure why I keep running away. Whenever I am on a train, I love the feeling of moving. Only, I am never thrilled with the destination. It would feel much better to see you at the end of each journey.

Everybody cries

- Isabel Bigelow: Isn't there a spell that can make you stop crying?

- Nigel Bigelow: No, darling, there isn't.

- Isabel Bigelow: He's idiotic, and yet I find him completely charming. It's been like that since the beginning. Only now, I also hate him.

- Nigel Bigelow: Love.

No insight

Beyond my foolish thoughts and imagination.

Wouldn't it be better to have some connection, any connection, even if virtual?

Not sure what for, but for me, it would. But surely, with my despair and recklessness, not for you. 

The further away from me, the better. 

 

Somewhere along the line

There were realizations. I am unable to describe that feel: a warmth inside that filled my chest, a confident worry that I imagine athletes feel at the moment of focusing on an objective, the thought of a discovery that scientist have, knowing there is still have a long path ahead to prove it.

At each moment you unveiled, subtely, your openess to my curiosity, desire, Love, I had that feel. My eyes broadened with surprise, my whole body would then commit and focus, I antecipated with conviction that I got the right clue, and I would dive with intent. 

Time would stop, because there was always a risk: a negation, a slap, a derisive laugh, an escape, a shrug.   But seldom it was the case, and neither of these happened. At most, a "not now", showing eagerness for me to try again.

Never have I felt I was wrong. And so, each time, my chest was broad and filled with hope and fulfiment. Warm. And after we moved a step closer to each other, the warmth remained, focused on going further beyond. Even when apart, there was warmth on the hope of a new encounter. 

Even today, my memories bring that feel again.  However, with a difference. Before, time would remain briefly suspended until a witty reply, a smile, a touch, an embrace, a kiss, an undressing, a penetration, an ejaculation, an orgasm, a cry, a sigh, a hug, a peaceful sleep, a desire fulfilled, unleashed the tension.  Nowadays, it feels as if the dive never plunges, as if the run never reaches the finishing line, as if the ball never hits the goal, as if the throwing spear keeps flying at an infinitesimal speed, never, ever, landing.

I remain suspended until realizing there is no more connection, no hope, no you to make dreams come true.

My chest turns from broad and warm to crushed and cold. 

That's the only realization left.

Miss you

 

Spring is here

But I feel like it's autumn. 

Wake me up when September ends.

Our bodies could be in synch

Just like a reflex of our minds.

Not free.

Not brave.

It is not a question of what a Spartan citizen should do, nor a husband, nor a king. Instead, ask yourself, my dearest love, what should a free man do?

3 years

Since that message that chose Adieu rather than Au Revoir. Since the last kiss. Since the last glimpse of an unequivocal Love.

And you are probably

Just somewhere, in someone's arms,

Starting a fire, ligthing some sparks,

Just dancing in the dark

Words I would want to sing

 If the sky… above you should turn dark and full of clouds
And that old north wind should begin to blow
Keep your head together and call my name out loud now
Soon I'll be knocking upon your door

You just call out my name, and you know wherever I am

I'll come running, oh yes I will, see you again

Winter, spring, summer, or fall, yeah

All you got to do is call and I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah

Hey, ain't it good to know that you've got a friend?

I would want to sing. Would.

damn would, rather than just do.

Sunrise

Sun always rises from your direction.

No shame, just a swoon of missing you

The noon's greygolden meshes make

All night a veil,

The shorelamps in the sleeping lake

Laburnum tendrils trail.

The sly reeds whisper to the night

A name— her name-

And all my soul is a delight,

A swoon of shame.

Hotel room

Empty room. Freezing room. Silent room.

And a very large, huge, bed we could both fill.

Instead, just hearing the blues, while feeling blue.

Routine prevails

Life is a carousel. But I've grown, and can see the lights and fanfare is empty. 

No joy, no peace, no love.

Tous les reves du monde

C'est comme ça. Perdu. 

Heart of Darkness.

Morning delight.

Wherever you are, whomever you are with. I, I have nothing else than radio waves, photonic pulses into the void. May there be light and sound, may there be delight. Someone utters good morning, and it ain't me.

 

I keep saying i did not take the chance

To know you better, to see your world through your eyes, to get to know those magic places you navigated that were unknown to me.

But also, you did not get to see so many of my other facets. You never saw me sportiv, coming out of a volleyball training, my scientific allure, my happiness while gardening and diy-ing.   

Today, I played Volleyball, a life time after. And while having a steaming shower, I did not remember those days - I only remembered the late evening showers we took together: cozy, relaxing, peaceful. 

You never got to see that side of me. But I know you would have embraced me anyhow.

And I, I would have embraced you as well.

Have I told you lately that I miss you? And if I do, do you even listen, or want to? Physically and virtually apart, means it does not even matter.

Fantasy

 

noun

1. 1.

   the faculty or activity of imagining impossible or improbable things.

it's not mere imagination, nor wish nor dream that keeps me awake late in the night.

it's my ever recurring fantasy, that i might see you, someday, again. May be impossible or improbable. But can't help imagining it, constantly. 

And while I do that, you live realities. You told me: "look at me. I am not a dream."

And it's true, you weren't. And with you all my fantasies became real. I was not alone, I was not afraid, I was myself.

Somewhere

Over the rainbow

I know

You are gone for good.  My sorrow, that I did not earn the respect to at least be told.  

With you, I felt love

With you, I felt pain

With you, I was me

5 years

Do you know that ‘if’ is the middle word in life? 

5 years of what if, of failing. 

Of Triumph, opening your heart, correctly pronouncing я тебе люблю.

Of Disaster, leaving you behind, soaking in my misery. 

What if?

 

Tempest is raging

When your dreams are scattered

Just like the wind blown sand

And you feel, you feel you need a friend

I'll be there, reach out your hand

I am tired of myself tonight. I should like to be somebody else.

 

Growing old

Meaningless, except when I reconnect with you.

3 years ago, we were waking up from our idyllic get away.  We made love under the stars, we tasted the divine, we experimented each other leaving all worries, all commitments, all strings attached behind.

It felt what could have been. What should be. 

And yet I am growing old without you.

I lost count

 To the times my finger hovered the button "add friend", the button "send message", the button "send email".

I would want to connect. But I do not know how. And I know I shouldn't. And it is clear I can't.

3 years

Would it seem 3 years if you were lying next to me?