I am weak… yes I am weak and dependent of you, probably I was born this way, under the projected shadow of a singular universe created from a tear of yours… or maybe from a perfect smile crafted by a sweet awakening… You are the one teaching me to occasionally say a half-pronounced “Yes”, me being usually rendered mute facing the complex struggles that tear you apart…

I often want to embrace you in my silence, to indulge in the binary time that I am offering you sporadically, adjacent to my inertial rebellions … I see how you act, how you turn the house around me into a functional entity, how you take on role after role while I constantly hesitate to integrate…

I do not have the power to tear myself apart and to see you … I would like to become a man, to be arrogant and sweet, to embrace with aftershaves and field flowers, to cook for you with divinely ingredients harvested from the heart of the current season … I would like sometimes to refrain your chocolate wings and to hold you prisoner in a sea of ​​beautiful memories … but you want to shake mountains, you are so serious, infinite, far…

Sometimes I would like to know you vulnerable and docile … I would take you by the hand to the safest escape, I would slowly kiss you to give you a trace of hope … I need to believe that all this is still possible in a merciful time registry…

My dear … I would like you to understand that we are solitary men and that when we talk, we do it most of the times for the positional recognition, but we internalize the essence … you have to make that maximum effort to get us out of our world unframed and devoid of complicated dreams …

Sometimes I hope you get too tired or simply just bored of following me, thus failing to notice the fear of my eyes, darkened by a complicated love … You’re so beautiful.

I cannot advance it anymore,
I cannot react in this sorrow framework
of pretended understanding,

I want it to be real, concise and reassuring,
Revamping in the dark the idea of a potential us,
Wrapped between the edges of you and me,

I am falling, resisting this upward trend
of fair playing with the most perfect…
non-communication.

If I could shape the sound of your absence
as a single light source, escaped from the everyday norm,
I would fly it high above, as a governor flag,
Casting a sweet fading shade over my limited belief
In a singular fair world re-evaluation.

It is the air surrounding your departures,
Setting my loneliness in a light sunset fire,
Crushing the last rising quote… of understanding.

You falling lost deep down among my dreams,
What a beautiful journey…

I was not really aware of the indefinite depths of you, surrounding my floating heart with viable options of care and resistance… I was not really parked in our safe alley, normally projected as floating in a suspended state, hovering above any interaction with the usual indefinite flow of banalities…

I was simply not there, not capable of observing you as my sane alternative to the complex array of indecisions…  We know for a fact that a certain type of gravity will expand time exponentially, creating that sensation of an accelerated traversal in relation to the common reference point…

When we talk about our feelings and interdependencies, these valid equations seem to be commonly disrupted by a repetitive, modulating force, a sinusoidal flow in a natural state that will enhance our memories to either expand or contract the average self valuation towards a never forgiving truth…

We cannot escape what we are, the limitations imposed as self-therapy, time and especially the false certainty of being granted a sufficient momentum set focused on retrials… In a long time, I feel the need to elevate my loneliness towards a brand new filtering state of mind.

Thought: Happiness is the measure (or maybe the projected price) for our self sufficiency.

I believe it all comes down to the perfect state of constantly being spoiled… You desire more and more each day when, if you truly remember, there was a time when it was all about a fragment… a brief moment… a smile, a whisper…. all those wonderful bricks with priceless value turning into a structure with a formalized price, diminished by our comfort zone and ownership considerations.

It is much harder later on to accept that an entire self contained and complex puzzle cannot be scrambled back towards the initial enthusiastic fragments while performing a certain state of flashback review and cold stone (re)evaluation.

While targeting a deep, silent and complete alternative for more, I try to let myself believe that whatever lines I’ve crossed I’ve buried them down with a certain reconfiguration of my fragmented memory that could allow me to hope for the more than perfect lost beginnings…

When too many teardrops hit the ground the surface becomes illuminated… and it seems that hope is born from the fundamental believe that we must live truly, even against our broken heart that tears us apart and dries our pride away…

A vulnerable self-image can project a powerful wall against any prolonged silence… and a single unit of music can refract all the feelings in the world…. crushed one by one under the gravity of the over-expressed loyalty…. how can it all come to an end ?

I am not in love:

# with the whisper of your name, fainted in a blind invocation;
# with the steps caught within our own rain, designated as the sole alchemist of a recovering sunset…
# with the recurring conversational gap, always diluted by your independence from me…
# with my own music of constant delay, granting you momentum for a final dance;

I know I am not since I am in love with the idea of love not being granted anymore… a fundamental victory over our (over)extended rights.

Looking already for the perfect ending for it, awarded with some sort of fading dreams (potentially of the solitary confinement within that negative side of your balance – at least one viable option)…

I do not crave for giving in just yet, time is merciful right now with my shielded perception and it seems to be more relaxed regarding its pace…. Now and then it skips a beat trying to rely on my own sound provisioning for the required sync.

I did become an unfolding governor and my independence is everlasting against a full sea of fair options for humiliation. Always keeping a good faith in empty thoughts and dry gestures, always seeking to accept sweet bits of grace from those unacceptable isles of personal freedom…

I am lost in between revamp and historical justice and I am winning strong… Yes… I might have arrived early to my late recovery.