|
This is my first post to the forum and it's something relatively recent. English is nor my first languaje and I don't get to speak or write in it often (though I do read and listen to it every now and then). So, I hope it's not that bad. Thanks for reading on. Any comments (critiques, and the other kind too) are absolutely welcomed. ####################################################################### I am afraid in this silent moment, of the red night under the shadow of our dreams, which has fallen upon our hands and eyelids, making us feel blurred and lonely, hand in hand in a fierce embrace. Don’t know if I could try, try hard and stop the things that haunt us from inside, (because it’s me and you after all who’ve become tragic shadows, as we tried to raise wings and become dreams, desperately flying to a moment which might have never existed, in our hearts, or maybe our desires, or our futures, not even when we pretended to remember such a clear beautiful uncertain light) I could try and say one word. And it would stop; since they are vessels for the poison that has come: one word or two. And it’s trapped in here, this poison, under these sheets and these orange city lights and widows and wind, where are all the things that are, and there is you and you and you touching my own dark cloud of self, by my side. It’s poison. In the way you’ll ask me why I’m crying and I’ll say, the same way you might have said to me, the truth. Because we know for certain, like these arms and eyes, this warmth, we know, it is our destiny forever never ever be together always absent and away from you, and you from me. This is the silent moment you chose (not me, not now), to break the line dividing the water and the fire, to escape and to forget, and through awful desire, to know the meaning of a word you thought didn’t exist, and it haunts us from inside, and it will rip us apart. They’re not true, the things we know, about the world, and god, and life and all those things and facts that say to us, and whisper to your mom and dad, the reason for us (for me) to suffer, stop and cry. But hard as we try, truth on our side, we might never change the nature of this world and of this night. Love and all, try to love, love and try. When this moment is over, silent, red, I will have turned myself into a piece of shattered glass, sad and lonely, with black hair. When this unspoken letter fails to remain so, this night in my bed will be trembling in the back of my head (and will stay forever there) because this lips on my lips and this hand on my chest and this love in our hopeless single life will be the last staple in our early grave when I ask you to stay. |