17 réversibilité

there was nothing to fear but fear itself— the indulging fear of not having you around, as i've grown into seeing how you endlessly persecute my past through your wicked cobalt eyes.

you've always been a whisperer with vindictive desires. you wanted to erase my grief— the grief of losing a poet so skillfully, i was almost astonished by how you drew the lines between yourself and him. you blamed me for holding onto my memories for way too long, but the tendencies i had never intended on fading away from my imagination. in fact, they were wrapped in so much light that i remained romantically blind the whole time, while i could still feel the tenacity of my past replaying in my head through you.

i was both the bullet and the target, yet your words were the ones that kept on grazing my shoulders. you never stopped... i had no other choice but cope with whatever was left of our encounter, as it lasted like the taste of oro blanco on a monday night.

the time reference had always failed to tie itself around my memory, the poems he wrote about me became the echoes of my very own silence. they became the epitome of loneliness, a feeling i had to embrace in order to emotionally abstain myself from seeing through other people. that's what i needed, i craved isolation even when the tears froze down my cheeks. that's what i thought i needed from the life i had without the one i love— tied, embedded, tied all the way in: curiously tied to my past, with no ambition of making my way through another future.

    i shamelessly escaped it all through you.

   that just turned me against my own concepts: my deprived soul was suddenly dying of starvation— i wanted to experience coldness between the breeze and the heat of your own sounds and shadows (perhaps between your gray sheets too), as you uncovered the ugly truths of my sharpest sins. my arms were reluctantly fading into the depths of the sun, crucially trying to melt into yours. that's what i thought i needed. i convinced myself i needed someone else to break through the burning regret and the pain that surrounded my synapses.

   my existence felt as cold as ever, but i had to admit it to you, my ephemeral spiritual acquaintance, there was no such thing as coldness or warmth outside our human concepts, yet nature tended to wrap itself around the fact that i was emotionally freezing, unusually craving the swelter of your sultry voice, the one that i enjoyed falling asleep to in the morning. we both fell asleep emotionally. in that very moment, i knew that i was drawn to your presence: i forgot how the ink that didn't belong to me, the one that was still dripping from my lips tasted like, while you forgot about the one that broke your heart. we both tried to forget and forgive our past lovers.

                  truth to be told, i didn't.