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Short, straight, burnt caramel hair. I do not know of her eyes, neither their form nor their colour. Her smirk forced me to lower my chin while smiling back. I only observed her laughter and few of her gestures. I’ve also heard her curse and her face was extremely calm. She excused herself with a deep breath. 

Later today, she walked by, eyes on the ground, a little bit tired, that’s how she seemed to me. Before that, she came again in the room. This time I looked at her eyes when her glare was focusing elsewhere. I saw the same burnt caramel colour. 
Her shirt was too chaotic, unfit, out of her standards. It amazes me how easily she changes. Her sceptical staring permitted me to watch her closer. The moment she laughed I tried to take my eyes of her but still, the chaotic shirt caught my eye. 
I was telling you about earlier when she walked by me. She gave me a quick look but I did not let our eyes meet, I narrowed my chin to the ground once again. The skin on the back of my neck tightened. 
It was something special about this woman, a mystery I will not understand but I wish I could explore.

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Back in time.

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It was last winter when I was rambling about that careless girl with the ponytail, right? I remember the cold weather that scared me and her abundant laughter. I used to compare them because she wouldn’t fit in. She was such an intimate person; a summer rain. I remember the first time she caught my eye. It was a cold October morning. She passed by for a cup of coffee but, unlike others, she had her own mug. She used to sit herself on the chair parallel to the exit door. Those mornings back then, I used to enjoy tremendously. I always paid attention to her movements as if I wanted to unravel that intimacy that she held on so tightly. There were times when her devastating sadness wouldn’t allow me to interfere with her thoughts. I admired her for that sensibility. She was brave enough to let her heart drown again and again. Sometimes the sound of her laughter was heard from the end of the corridor while others, I used to hear the songs she played when trying to pick up the pieces. Those moments were the most difficult for me. She was so dear to my heart but I never knew how to deal with hers. I just wanted to make her laugh but in her case, that was never an easy game.
As I was staring at her today, I tried to see through that intimacy again. She’s changed. I am not yet sure but I strongly believe that she lost that sensitiveness.
I  wasn’t willing to talk. I just wanted a few hours to watch her so I can examine again that intimacy. But I didn’t have hours and the frost had steamed the windows of the coffee place. In a few minutes, the sun had set and the misty night was once again, present to my confusing thoughts. I dreamt a bit of her eyes later today. Those were the same; pure and seductive.

Scenarios.

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“She was laughing so beautifully and I couldn’t explain myself why I was feeling the need to stare at her. She was simple: long brown hair, classic linen clothes, a common woman. Her look seemed depressive and every time I made her laugh, I would be conquered by a feeling of success. Contemplating these words I realized that was the thing that made me fell for her; she fed my ego. Watching her laugh I became serious, I wished I could seduce her, rip her clothes off and still, at the same time, protect her. It was both a romantic and a brotherly need but even now, I can’t admit which one is more powerful. Sometimes I just feel the need of people adoring me and she wouldn’t do that; I know my words imply that I am an egocentric man, arrogant and indecisive, but that’s what makes you still hang on my lips. I know you’re still listening to my story so I shall continue.
I was disturbed of the others’ presence. I needed to admire her, in detail; being a predator is what characterizes me. I was surprised by the fact that she wouldn’t become my victim. That made me want her badly, in every possible way that you may think.”
I studied his movements carefully. He’s always betraying his intentions. I would ask for more details but our intimacy – if it ever existed – wouldn’t permit me so I continued my study. His eyes flickered at every word she would say as if he was expecting a desirable answer to his thoughts. My coffee got cold. He made me feel uncomfortable. I needed something else to get my mind off the scenario that I had already created in my mind. I bet someone else at that table would have agreed with me.
After a while, my emotions were in a conflict of interests as the doors of the railway closed disturbingly quickly. Leaving the warmth of a coffee shop, I found myself surrounded by lovers of the night. October had grown old, this autumn was colder, the streets had emptied and I was still feeling dizzy. I think that the beggar outside the church saw me half smiling and tearful. Perhaps he thought that I had gone mad.
“I left the coffee shop alone. The railway station wasn’t as empty as I expected. I got amused by the publicity of a telecommunications company on the walls. The girl in the photo reminded me of an actress. When I got out, finally breathing fresh air, I felt relief and happiness. I was expecting winter so badly. The pub near my house was half-empty. The barman’s face was filled with boredom and the music was off. I ran up the stairs and reached to my room. I opened the door carefully so I wouldn’t wake up anyone. My act wasn’t successful. I said a quick “hello” and ran into the bathroom. I needed a cool shower. As the water was running on my skin I was thinking of her pleasing me. A knock on the door though, interrupted my imagination. I had to satisfy someone else’s needs. I gave in and an hour later I fell asleep. I dreamed of nothing or at least, I didn’t remember anything. Whatever it was, it must have been of no importance.”

Infatuation.

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     The way he blinked was obsessing her. In a few hours he lost his boyishness. She was staring at him, waiting for the right words to come out of his mouth. His glance was empty and his soul had grown. He was saying nonsensical words, hoping that he would confuse her.
That morning the sky was clear. Even the navy clouds were afraid to confront his temper. Her bed was warm, the creases of her blanket tightened her body and she wouldn’t leave that bed if the alarm clock wasn’t so persistent. Hours later she found herself insulted by his manners. Clouded by that feeling of disavowal, she was still studying his movements with the edge of her eye. She used to do that quite often as it was such a pleasure to observe a man’s wildness fighting the child inside him. “Men must believe us stupid when thinking that we don’t know!”, she quoted. She was repeating the same preposition to herself. That was the truth that she didn’t want to live by.
She was a bit charmed and half excited. He was unpredictable and that was the thing that agonized her.Even if he became what she couldn’t stand to encounter, a part of her was thrilled to read another chapter of him.

Midnight hues.

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He had the flavour of vanilla and cinnamon. His lips twisted arrogantly, disturbing me in a seductive way. The color of his eyes was burnt umber, sensual and stunning. I would describe him as the the most cunning man I have ever encountered but that would be only the preface. There is a spark of sensibility in his eyes, well hidden behind his pride.
It was after midnight when the rain stopped. The pavements were humid and the contemporary bars which once used to host an army of people were soulless. Not far away from that deserted road, the second floor of an unpopular coffee shop was more alive than ever. While stepping in, I remembered the beginning of last autumn when a short, brunette lady was serving me hot coffee, accompanied by a paper and a pen. When I first met her, she was glancing me moderately. After a while she got used to my presence at the table near the left window but she never asked me why I was always coming alone.
She wasn’t there that night and I wasn’t there alone.
The room was darker than the rainy night. I was staring at the beautiful shape of our glasses, somehow avoiding his glance. We talked about things that my mind wants to forget but it pleased me so much talking to him. I wanted to hear more of his stories as I had the curiosity to learn his deepest thoughts. Every movement of his, I studied carefully. He was a book that I wanted so badly to read but some pages were still unwritten; he didn’t have the courage to reveal the whole story and that is were I stopped.

Hopes & Expectations.

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     If only our hopes were equal to our expectations! I hoped for an unconditional, consuming and undoubted love. What I got, was nothing but the opposite of the three above mentioned. My dreams were bigger than that, other people’s lives were implicated in it and the doubts that consumed me were born by my own lover. My expectations were grounded.
     In present, my mind is more polluted than ever. I won’t dare comparing it to the unsettling weather. I would insult mother nature. But I can definitely find a resemblance somewhere; to the infected human mind over the years. As seen in our narcissistic history, our hopes through the years might evolve into a destructive road trip. We are dreaming, hoping and aiming. With carefulness we should proceed, no doubt. If not, the fault lies within us. In this equation, our expectations might not be the same to our reality.
     I did hope for those three gifts mentioned at the beginning to be given to me but what did I expect? After all, I must admit, I didn’t expect an easy journey nor a path filled with roses.
     I fear the one thing that I hoped was a story. Perhaps that makes me a mentally disturbed person. What if all I wanted was inspiration? And if so, will I be charged with the ‘crime’?
     After all, what if I am clouded by this love that I didn’t expect? I shall confess, my expectations changed even if my hopes and dreams remain the same.

Mourning.

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    We were falling into the temptation of giving up. There wasn’t much left of us than our misery. Our hearts had locks and chains. I don’t know if he wanted to save mine but I was tired of trying to save his. Sadness was my goddess now and I worshipped her so deeply that it consumed me .
The night had fallen darkly and noisy. The skies were also compelled by my goddess. Her pale pink dress fitted her perfectly, like the spring flowers fit their season. My imagination could make everything seem of such a beauty. I was silent and destroyed. There were sorrows gasping inside me and earthquakes diminishing everything that I had built.
There was a thing about his touch that disappointed me. A feeling of betrayal perhaps. He savaged my body and I savaged his. It never felt like a romantic intercourse that would lift you up to heavens, neither an unpleasant connection.
My chest is hurting and a nod is blocking my respiratory system. The way my saliva stops at some point  through my lungs it’s annoying and painful.
My soul is completely wrecked. I wish I could shout this pain out of my chest and drown the world with my tears but even that is impossible. I have lost all of my intimacy; all that I had. Now it’s all of me, standing by the window, sobbing, waiting for the next snowflake to fall down on earth so I can mourn about it until the morning comes.

Day Dreamer.

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      The wind was blowing out but the sun was still shining proudly. I was tormented by my thoughts and the desire that haunts my heart. There wasn’t anything irrational about that moment, when my feet were moving rapidly keeping my heartbeats’ pace. The road seemed infinite and his portrait in my mind made me feel as if I didn’t really existed. Those moments were a dream or just a game of my untamed imagination. I was able to hear his soft voice and for a certain inexplicable reason, I smiled. Even my subconscious was laughing at me. The wind was fighting against me and a few seconds later I felt my soul drowning in its’ sorrows. I was trying hard to keep my tears in my tiny tear ducts. His figure was hanging around on the red carpet of my worrisome mind, proud of himself for being there. The look in his eyes was contemplative. I began breathing hard, almost not at all. My heart was dizzy alongside my body while climbing up the marble stairs of the campus. The wind blew tougher upon me, fulfilling my insides with a devouring sadness. I was obliged to smile in order to hide my tearful eyes and continue walking on a slower rhythm.
     He was walking by my pace, still on my mind. I would swear that his hand was holding mine all the way but I would be called nonsensical. But then; he was the only one who understood my craziness. He dealt with it fearlessly. And yes, he was holding my hand and I was the happiest person in that moment. His maroon eyes were shining as the sun that was accompanying me from the very beginning. I would dare say, he was my sun.

Matutine Agitation.

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There was a line separating us. He thought that line was just because we had united two single beds together in order to make a big one. It wasn’t just that. In my mind, the line was infinite. It was like we had some boundaries separating us; like two different neighbouring countries. Our souls won’t bond even if our hearts imply a love affair.
At the moment, I feel a vast pain which I cannot explain. More than that, I feel an unusual rage in my heart and a suffocation of my lungs. There is a nod that makes it hard to breathe. Tears run of my eyes when writing these lines and a deep depression submerges me to the point of feeling like drowning into the dark bottom of the Atlantic ocean. The fact that I cannot find the roots of my heartbreaking keeps me awake. The night is longer this way, when my heart isn’t at peace and the only noise that I hear is his breath. I looked down the road from the window and there was no soul wondering around. It seems like the drunk are filling themselves with more alcohol and the peaceful lovers are holding hands under their parfumed sheets. What about the hopeless romantics and troubled minds? I guess we are all losing sleep or having nightmares that suffocate us even when we’re asleep.
I still find it hard to explain this pain that tonight has brought upon me.  I find it healthier if I close my tearful eyes and keep them that way until the sun rises again.

Moments of hesitation.

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     A dear woman once told me that you can’t be with a person that involuntarily stops you from dreaming and she was right.  The surface of the table was rough and he was moving his fingers towards it. My eyes got lost by the movement of his hand but my thoughts were insanely corrupting me. His eyes were staring at mine, impatiently, like he was expecting the next twisting of my lips or the next ‘I love you!’. But I said nothing; Even if his soul begged me to explain myself and my heart was desperately wanting, my mind’s power was too intense and authoritative. I did the only thing that I could do in that moment. I took his hand into mine and smiled. Even at the moment I cannot decide whether that curve that my lips formed was real or just an obligation.
     My thoughts scared me or maybe my past experiences. I was afraid of us. I am still afraid of the routine. More than that, I saw myself on my knees in his behalf and my dreams or usual activities being left aside. Somehow my heart blamed him. In a way, history is repeating itself and that dries my soul.

Sillage.

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     The night has been covered by a glossy humidity and most of the stars were hidden behind the navy clouds. Last night I was feeling vulnerable and incapable of controlling my emotions.
We were watching the city lights at three in the morning from the sea shore. There were only twenty centimeters separating us but it felt like miles because our hearts had chosen different paths.
I strongly believe though that somewhere on the road, our souls touched again, for a few seconds. Then they pulled each other away because of the rationality of our maddening thoughts. Perhaps it was the first time when we calculated the consequences of possible irreparable mistakes. At the end of the night, I felt a strange happiness.
       You see gentlemen; this was the night that changed the paths of our hearts. I knew the moment before closing my eyes that I did the right thing. I dove into a deep relaxing sleep. My dreams confirmed my reality.
       At the heart of this blustery winter I found my soul tantalizing.I was conquered by an emotion more powerful than perturbation. It was so intense that somehow led me to being euphoric. I would have easily been characterized as a lunatic woman. Even if I was that, I have to share my insane thoughts with you or at least, the ones that might hearten you.
      I slipped into an intimacy that brightened me up because now I knew the reason why my heart was burning. It was him; the viridian man. He slashed part of my past without even knowing and made himself comfortable at my heart’s side.

Exasperation.

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     A simple gesture of tenderness, that was what I needed. More than that, I think I needed someone’s gesture of tenderness; but I can do nothing but deny my thoughts. It was the hardest but simplest thing that I could do for now. I feel suffocated by crowds and desperate for silence. My soul has become a controversial place and the demons that once used to ponder around my darkest corners, are hidden behind the depression that torments me.

     The man with the viridian eyes has become a necessary variable on my life equation. There is one thing I am not certain of; whether I want to solve it or not. Perhaps the procedure of solving it scares me. A brunette man once told me that love hurts and in the end I will see a soul being tortured. I would not believe his words if I didn’t see his own soul being tortured a few months after he confessed these words to me. I remember his eyes in tears both times. I wanted to become the solution to his equation and get him out of his misery. Perhaps my intentions changed in time and I forgot what I wanted in the first place. The night I counted fifty stars in the sky in his favor, we thought we wouldn’t need anything else in the world. We were enough for each other.
     Somehow I see part of the past repeating itself. I feel attached to those viridian eyes and even if my heart implores my mind to trust him completely, I cannot. Perhaps that shows how messed up I am and affected by the past.

Diamonds and Memories.

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    7ec749468838a325e9afdde88c8c6aa7   If only the days wouldn’t be so dark! The nights of the moody November seem tragically warm. The combination of oxygen and carbon dioxide that runs through my lungs is blocking my respiratory system making me forget my existence.     The flesh that covers my bones can’t protect my insides well enough. My soul is lost somewhere in the middle of eras and memories. At first I thought I had lost my mind but as the days of my loneliness passed, I found myself into a world that I had created a long time ago. I felt confused when I realized where my deepest thoughts lied. Somehow I was found between my mistakes and rights, not knowing what to choose as a life compass. Perhaps I was my mistakes and my flesh contained everything that was rightful to me. I embraced that theory while continuing the trip to finding out what I really wanted.
     I began torturing myself, feeding me useless love, aimless hopes. There was nothing that could save me from this vacuum that I had in my heart. I questioned my choices and I began my own interrogation. At the very end I knew I had to act based on how I felt.
     I closed my eyes for a few seconds while the raindrops were wetting my skin. It felt like a river of tears running of my eyes. I needed that one person that could make me smile, his hug and his suffocating perfume. We had created a home of our hearts and now it’s all gone because of the hurricanes that crossed our paths.
     The fireplace was still illuminating the room, my cup of coffee was half empty, the rain seemed to have stopped and my thoughts had entangled with my dreams.

Elysian.

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   Her eyes were filled with tears that she obviously tried to hide from the cynical popularity while her bitter heart was beating faster and faster at the thought of her delusional and unhappy reality. Her name did not resemble anymore to her emotional condition. They both formed an oxymoron, making her a sane person that has been locked up into her own internal sanatorium. In her mind there was only one person that could set her free. The whitish walls, the unpleasant clothing and the mass of psychically sick people led her to the conclusion that she was a lunatic like the rest of the world.

     I was looking at her neutrally, trying hardly to hide my judgmental and interrogating look. I sensed that she needed space and silence. I would sympathize with her pain if she let me but I did not dare to say a word. Her sadness silenced me and her aristocratic skin froze me away. However, even if she was flooding into that profound sadness, she was notably wonderful and fearless. Behind her sorrows there was a warrior, someone who needed affection and motivation in order to get up on her feet and dazzle the world.
     Her ponytail reminded me of a petite girl that had no worries tormenting her soul. Perhaps she was that blithesome child and I was just misinterpreting her piercing eyes.

Viridis.

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There are nights we all desire more than a simple hug or a gesture of tenderness. We need a fragrance that can make us choke of its’ powerful properties. That kind of fragrance I had every night in my arms as the sun was hiding behind the navy clouds. Every time he touched my skin with his baldly lips, I felt his need of affection. I always have an image of his eyes in my mind; the way he laughs is melting my bones. His riddles are gently visible while his eyes are miraculously twisting of amusement. His lips are the last ones to show the great excitement that unfolds a depressive happiness.

     I am used to falling asleep after him so I have the privilege to watch over him while his subconscious unravels his deepest fears or desires. His arm is wrapped around me and I am stupidly smiling while his heart is beating either slower or faster than usual. That moment I felt a great pain filling my lungs and conquering my soul.
I am haunted once again by the ghosts of my past and their countenance reminds me of a brunette man. No matter how hard I tried to breath out every concern that tortured my heart, it was futile.
     Tonight the darkness is silent and catastrophic for my mental health. The wind has stopped fizzling and the air I am inhaling is burning my insides. I feel every suffocating emotion submerging me and his absence keeps my demons alive. I shall fall into deep sleep now. All I need to see is the dazzling sun to give me hope.

Vanity.

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     A fearful person. That is the perfect word to characterize him. The man wearing the viridian mask was always silent while his thoughts could torment any demon in hell. He thought that words have no meaning when you can conquer the world with your actions. Even if deep down in my soul I believed in his theories, I think of him as truly mistaken.
The sky is cloudy and the black widow surprises me with her serendipity and negligence of the revengeful heavens. The city lights are blurry, reflecting as murderous shadows on the glassy windows. The autumn leaves seem all blackish now, same pattern and nuance. The pine trees are moody because their children are gone and the dirty water of the rain has sickened them. Somehow, those pines trees can resemble to the viridian man. His seedy provision has the same effect on my disposition. Even if it is a fact well known, I cannot accept it. I wish his branches could expand more on my thoughtful mind and answer to my pitiful questions. I am being conquered and pestered by every possible word that can come out of his mouth.
The walls around me are whitish and the furniture seems nothing like luxury. The mattress has no sheets on it and the floor is cold. The window is half opened. I can see the wildness of the human souls pondering on the streets; some indecisive, others lighthearted.
The viridian man was still wearing his impersonal mask. His lips won’t curve into a smile and his eyes won’t show any annoyance. Some may say that hiding what’s torturing you is the only armor that can protect you from the untamed world. I might agree but in the viridian man’s case I fear he excesses the use of this lethal drug.