Y si estuvieras aqui, como habrían sido estos días a tu lado? Habriamos visto películas y seguro te habrías burlado de mi por pasar el fin de semana en pijama y cocinando solo pasta, la cual te habría encantado y no habrías dejado sobras. Seguramente habríamos hecho el amor muchas veces y habríamos despertado en los brazos del otro. Pero eres aún un sueño que no se materializa, que no llega. No se de que color es tu cabello o tu piel, no se que tipo de ropa prefieres usar ni si te sientes cómodo en jeans o prefieres pantalones más de "vestir". De lo que estoy segura es que disfrutarías muchisimo mi compañía, te sentirías tan orgulloso y afortunado de tener una mujer como yo en tu vida, y no es vanidad o egocentrismo, es solo que recientemente he descubierto mi valor como ser humano y he encontrado que simplemente me fascino. Así que seguramente igual te fascinaria y pensarías ¿Dónde habías estado toda mi vida? Aunque no te engañes, ya lo he escuchado antes... solo espero que cuando tu lo digas sea tan real como lo necesito.
At this point it is pointless to even think about it. She sees me as merely a faint memory, and not even a good one. Seven years after hers, my heart breaks. It only took that 30 seconds encounter to change my state of mind for days. This void that is finally present is filled with regret and self-hate. I cannot remember her, some slivers of the past shoot by, without emotions attached. Was i so self involved back then? The sadness i should have felt all these years ago comes rushing in now, preoccupies me and leaves me here. Sitting in a dim lit room, alone, with my could-have-beens. I try to reach her in my mind, she is not there. Our line died seven years ago. I broke it myself, my past-self has cut it and it is only now that the tears reach my end. I hate him, as she probably did...
Think about what you've got. You're extant. You're extended. You occupy a shape in this realm, parallel to all the non-existing souls who will never fill a proposition referent to a real object. You're floating along on a magic mattress, half awake, half asleep. You're distinguishing what you see from what you dream. And images are metaphors that confront you, and prod you to be all you can be. You're shrugging off the scenes and humming down the street. Snowflakes are invisible in this 90 degree heat. But they are here, in a parallel universe, incubating. Evolving, growing. We will see them shortly after Christmas. And we will stop what we are doing and stare, as they gently flutter across our scenes.
She was staring out the window. It was different. Everything she had once loved... No more.
They had taken over, they took away eveything there was to care for.
She knew she had to do something about it. THIS WOULD NOT BE THE END!
She walked out the door, down the stairs and into the middle of the road. She ran. She ran until she couldn't run any further. And after days and days of running, she found it. It was waiting for her.The door opened and she walked in. That was it. She was no more.
You hold me, you take me in close, so close i can feel your breath on my neck. You forcefully lay me down on the bed. You know I like it. I give you that look and you know you need to take me now. We melt into each other. Intertwined between the sheets, it's hard to tell who's taken control. I scratch your back and pull you in closer, deeper inside me. Nothing else matters. Only this moment. We forget everything else and all we know is how to love each other. This language we know. We communicate well here. I lay you back and get on top. I usually like to be submissive but now I want to take control. I want to hold you down and take you the way I want. You give me that look as though you secretly enjoy being thrown around, you probably do. So passionate, attentive, and aware. Such clear communication, conversing so well without the need of words. After, you pull me in close, you wrap your big arms around me. We melt into the bed sheets. In the morning the sun light wakes us up. We make love again.