miércoles, 30 de enero de 2013

For Lovers

The one I loved and cherished is dead. She’s buried or cremated in the hands of the most repulsive being that I’ve ever coped with. In a manner of speaking, my ex lover is lying on the hands of death itself. I guess I’m glad she died, in that way I don’t have to actually grieve the loss of my former girlfriend. As I might have to explain, knowing that someone you actually loved and was a person that you basked in happiness is actually stagnant water makes you feel a whole lot less sad.
I yearn those days that expiry wasn’t in sight; being hold by her was one of the most splendid things I’ve felt. At the end it happened what I most feared, the day was absorbed by darkness and my lover on her confusion tagged her file as ‘felo-de-se’.

I like it when you say that you love me

The ataraxis in this insignificant life is finally disclosed; she’d corrupted the core that was constantly rebuilding itself with any stimuli that wanted to leak it. Her voice makes me tremble and shiver in glee whenever I hear it; it’s that sound, that tone and pace that lifts me up when falling into a down whirl of rubbish.
It sort of feels like burning when her fingertips slide into my thighs, like I want to be incinerated and never get back to life, because somehow I found happiness in this mess. It just feels like the right thing, the right moment, the right person to be with, no matter how hard it can be. For the very first time in my meaningless life I think I reached what I call happiness.