I am ready to negotiate, but not about love.
I will write with a knife my decision on my skin so that every time I doubt about my choice the scars will remind me of them and of the reason why I have taken them.
I am still trying to remove your hands from my memory, the cold of your body, the scent of your skin.
It's going to be easy if I don't listen to my thoughts and I ignore my dreams, so real, so hot, so recurrent.
You won't hear me say that. I will not confirm or deny it. I am not going to beg my mind for it any longer.
In the shadows of the day all seems to be made of silver and the reflection of you hurts my eyes still sore of my dreams.
I vaguely remember I was making love to you and you were staring at the moon, thinking about a distant world, I was not part of.
I was on fire but I could not melt the ice.
I have asked myself in the days after the full moon if the phoenix could still raise from her ashes, but she preferred to disappear in the underground of my remembrance together with him and the memory of you.
I still love you.
I can't confess to myself I feel lost.
"Boris, I have to take care of my life now. Please, stand by until next time you are allowed to live"
that's what I am doing now, or at least this is how I feel. I am stuck in my head and I have to admit that it's not such a bad feeling after all.
So, summing up nothing has changed, if I don't consider that now I am aware of the lies I have been telling to myself and of the cold I feel when the sun is off.
I think this writing could seem tragic to an eye which is not trained. But an omniscient narrator as you are should know more than this.
I kiss your neck while you sleep. You moan and pull me towards you without waking up.
I taste your body and try to remember the sensation of silk on my tongue.
I can't fight against how much I want you.
I bite your side gently while my hands touch you, not leaving space to the imagination.
Do you feel me? Do you feel how my kisses burn? Or is my skin the only one on fire?
Your lips curl up in a smile that makes me lose the will of fighting against myself. I know this is just a fantasy, a dream with no return, but the nice side of madness is that when you are there you don't mind anymore.
mmh...you are so warm now. I wonder if it's really you what I am feeling or just the other myself, I am used to make love with.
I want to write
just one word
the one that makes me
feel alive.
But it's stuck,
like someone who
said "I am not leaving"
but in the eyes you
see a light showing
they have already left.
I am trying to keep myself
from feeling
because feeling is
something that never
gave me long
happyness
But I lost control of
this engine.
And the feelings come out of it like
gasses,
that make me suffocate.
Still I am happy, because I knew
that illusions show their face
just in that moment when you
think they have become real.
and for the first time
I didn't run away
but went to crash on it full speed.
I knew someone who told me
that you cannot be deceived but only deceive yourself.
I strongly believe that.
Nobody has the power to hurt you
if you don't allow that.
I have created a time bomb
and kept it on my lap,
caressing it while waiting
for it to explode (and I am able to let time pass fast when it doesn't have to)
Now that I am surrounded by
Pieces of something I can't recognize
I feel like nothing is
imoportant anymore.
Nothing but that one word.