After the rain comes sun
After the sun comes rain again
This must be underwater love
The way I feel it slipping all over me
This must be underwater love
The way I feel it
It's eight fifteen
this kiss you give
It's never ever going to fade away
It shouldn't ever have to end this way
It shouldn't fade in our dreams away
I do not have
A soundtrack for the last time we saw each other. There was an awry silence throughout those days where it seemed hope was gone, whilst music would bring an unplaced joy.
We still made Love, real Love. Could not be otherwise. We still embraced each other, held hands, shared our thoughts. And our silences spoke more than words.
I did not know you had written to me. Maybe I should have given what, apparently, would have become a last token as well. I gave you weeks before a light holder.
But I left no candles, no sparks, no light.
I went away. And every day since, your cry of resigned despair when we made Love for the last time, still echoes in my empty soul.
That cry is today's soundtrack. For tomorrow, is the first day of the rest of our lives. Your life, as mine is empty without your signals.
This is not a goodbye, but a farewell. Someday we might reconnect, if only you say so. Even if that would not mean living or loving, it could mean you remember. I know I do.
Take care.
Il giorno del poi
You might want to find out my daily routine.
My only question is how long it took you to forget me. Or, not being an asshole, how long it took you to move on.
Either way, you have only forgot me, you have only moved on, because I vanished.
So, it's only on me that you do not wanna know.
Where you are, how you are, I wanna know, I just can't.
Je suis nul
Aujourd'hui je suis très loin de ce matin d'automne
Mais c'est comme si j'y étais
Je pense à toi
Où es tu
Que fais-tu
Est-ce que j'existe encore pour toi
Je regarde cette vague qui n'atteindra jamais la lune
Tu vois, comme elle je reviens en arrière
Comme elle, je me couche sur le sable et j'me souviens
Je me souviens des marées hautes
Du soleil et du bonheur qui passaient sur la mer
Il y a une éternité, un siècle, il y a un an
Open door
When I left, you had the door open to find a better, greater, truer Love.
While I closed it. I'll only have the memory of the best, greatest, true Love - yours.
For you, there's more. For me, it was the end of the road.
this time, on the dot
я тебе люблю
and then, I waited for a kiss but it didn't come. you just smiled. and it felt like a thousand kisses deep.
...
(Repeating words in my brain)
(Training in front of the mirror)
(Visualizing the interaction)
(Uttering the sentence as I walk)
How quickly
Did you kiss him? How quickly did you let him touch you? How quickly did you open the door to your heart? How quickly did you fall in Love?
How quickly did your world change?
And more importantly how easy was it?
I am guessing a walk in the park. The hard part, forgetting, was probably done. I made sure it was swift.
If only it would be that quick and swift to forget you, no matter how hard.
Boundaries
I always wonder. All boundaries to your heart, body and soul that ended up coming down ( I want to believe, unwittingly) are they now gone?
All the time we had to overcome to touch, kiss, hug, unleash our senses, make Love, is it now something that became overnight?
And if so, does it have the same weight? Each kiss, are they as deep, as slow, as purposeful as ours? Do you feel the same? Do you abandon yourself, or feel shred?
Are there any boundaries at all? Have I breached them, broke you so badly you are no longer the castle I had to climb?
I hope than rather than tearing down walls, you found the strength to open the gates to your heart, body and soul. I shame myself into not having realized how open they were, and being a barbaric destructive force.
Or maybe I think to highly of myself. And all I did was going through some of your gates as you decided, wittingly, to open them.
I am thorn, I do not know why. If only I would know the unknown maybe it could bring peace and ease. Or instead, make me even more disconcerted and shameful of my behaviour.
Well, I deserve it.
I curse my dreams.
.jpg)
You are happy
You are satisfied. You are fulfilled.
I'll be at peace then, and live with my sorrow. I have caused enough pain.
(You could let me know, though)
Under the stars and moonlight
Which were hidden under the stars, in a steamy bath, with two broad smiles.
"As long as we got to be here
Let's live"
Suddenly
I realize the reason of my angst. Years ago I was behaving on this same day, at this exact hour like a utter execrable person.
Rather than enjoying the moment. Living the real dream. Following a gorgeous, delightful meal, an exceptional getaway, ending a unique moment in a high note.
I gave my whole, you made it wonderful.
Suddenly my chest doesn't compress. The memories of Love are stronger than the absence. Even if I behaved badly, I did extend my stay. We did make Love, over and over again during those two days.
If ever there was romance, that was it. Simple, but meaningful. Expensive, but worth it. And with a surprise you had not realized.
I really wanted to make it special...
I can go to sleep, I know now why. It would be a day to celebrate. I celebrate without you.
Perhaps you do remember.
There are days like this
My chest is so opressed with sorrow and your absence, that my heart pumps heavily as a gasp for life.
I imagine you at every step. I recall everything, even if blurred. I invent places we never been to, moments we were supposed to have.
But most all, I realize I vanished from your world, your heart, your soul. I know I am to blame for the first. But what about the others? Am I to be the sole responsible? You never promised, and it would have been cruel to ask you, but once you forgot me in your heart, perhaps we could still linger as contacts. Not left in this utter silence.
And I do not know. Whether you forgot me. Whether you may not have. I am just in a hell of the unknown, a cliff just before the black hole.
I could at least figure out where, with whom, but more importantly, how are you. But no. Any string collapsed. Clearly, String Theory is a fake.
If it is not, I am worried. Because I might be like this because of something. And it kills me even more, because I am not there with you.
And at this realization, my chest compresses even further, and I think hard about one of the days I stepped through your door and you smiled, and force my heart to pump.
Otherwise, I'd succumb.
I dreamt of you
A true journey to be in your good graces.
It was inconclusive, but the door was not closed.
Then I woke up and realized there was no journey to be done. And how would I even ever start it? How would you even ever look at me again?
Silence and oblivion is what I am to you. What grace? What memories?
What dreams?
Screw myself!