The names are the simplest form of anything that sounds wrong. The experiment failed when the testers are dying, exhausted. Any relational structure should unionize. I remember my first encounter with him. I m'épivardais on my perceptions and realities after eating too many beers at cheap prices. This look is gone.
Lying in bed with another to punctuate my sentence, I am leaning discreetly on the image forever engraved on my arm. It gives me the impression of belonging to it and never feel at home elsewhere than in his arms. That was the idea ... an idea that I was left alone to interpret. How long can it redefine such sensuality?
I remember the trail of roses. When he also played the waiting game for me to prove my importance.
I blushed my lips to hide the envy that it is filed. The desire which no longer exists when lovers become strangers inevitably revives elsewhere. I still dream of love as the waltz of the night taking with them the last parcels of certainty. Even the passion hideout when I dare mention his name.
I remember all these new sensations. I become indifferent to this love or has it vanished as I feared?
is an insidiously slow dissociation exerted against a will which is obviously not foolproof. Love is so fragile that doubt becomes the weapon of choice for contemporary bruised.
I remember his biggest lie and how to confess, defeated his wrongs. The vulnerability is it the source of all forgiveness?
Another night starts. What to take Does my dream this time?
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