Even only for one day, I want someone to say:
"Can I talk to you? I... just want to talk to you."
Everything will feel beautiful. Right. Where all my life I have tried, and tried. People forget. A forgotten life. A course of cause-and-effect where a reaction requires a stimulus. Never want, or just because. Something essential, like life or death. Like disasters. Recent news. Not the colors of flowers or the charm of butterflies. Not because.
When the night unfolds, spirits become shadows. Everything is lost. But tears. And fears. The things I hold so dear. All happiness melts into a pang of sorrow. Merely being. In the dark. Darkest part of this room, where you reside.
And I belong to me. Only myself and the mystery.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012, 10:49 PM