Love is pain multiplied by a hundred stab wounds aiming at desires, tearing them apart to pieces lost in ambiguous abyss of regardes and stares, meanings lost. Life would be a lot less backbreaking if we told the tale of our hearts first hand. Commodity of our minds dared not. Oceans apart his eyes haunt me forever. Forks on the road tore my limbs but I let the wheels crush me to speak.
I wish …. you could see through me… my tongue is made only for suffocation. Knowing a hundred tongues made love all the same Greek to me.
Yearned, instead of ridicule, for the first time for held hands….
On a ball full of billions and yet I’m on Mars lost among red ashes of my fleshed sensation….
Chemistry is not the pull…just alchemy…
Happy and madly sad… now I see what they meant….