nélküledLegutóbbi olvasó: 2020-07-08 06:12 Összes olvasás: 100659
|1273. ||[tulajdonos]: t||2020-05-29 12:03|
|I am no less in love with him than I was a year ago. I saw him yesterday, stone-faced, stretched skin on his bones, no gentleness, no joy, no sign of a heart about him. Disillusioned, perhaps. I would find no mercy with him if we met. But we won’t.|
I started biking 3 days ago and while I was riding through the rich smell+sight mixture of the countryside all sorts of time fragments were floating through me, frozen moments of childhood mixed with his eyes. His eyes, always. Seen even when not seen. Gentle and unreachable.
There has been an absence always. That is what I have tried to fill with my former beloved ones too. It remains. But through the haze of May blossoming and blazing around me, I felt that none of them had been such a perfect match as him. Even if.
That was one reality, seeing him was quite another. It smashed those gentle eyes. And made me realise that I feel what I feel towards that person whatever he is. I had been afraid that I would suffer: I didn’t. (It was only luck.) I didn’t feel that warm glow around my heart that used to be love. I could see that the distance between us is final. That there is nothing else, just that distance. My mental images of him must fall dead into it. I cannot feel what I feel, I cannot imagine him in any place in my mind.
And, yet, I also knew that I could watch that face for a lifetime. Even if. Others don't love the way I do. (I may be mental, after all.) It doesn't make sense and definitely has not made me a better person. It has made me worse. It is an end in itself, nothing more. And, also, it is a fact that I cannot change.
Hozzászólást csakis azonosított felhasználók írhatnak.
Kérjük, hogy jelentkezzen be az azonosításhoz!