Muse.

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Did you ever get the chance to talk to yourself while floating on the surface of a deep sea? Did you ever get the chance to walk through a forest without fearing if you lose your way?
I am still wondering if you have ever given the chance to yourself to feel the wonderfulness of a fearful moment. It was a little late to have that discussion, perhaps it was a little late for any matter or just way too soon. In history, it was all about the perfect moment, the right opportunity at the best of times. Unfortunately, nobody got the timing right. I suppose that Socrates would have been a lot more useful nowadays and Frida would have had a better chance in life if her timing was right. But, what if that was the best they could do? What if their timing was as perfect then as it would have been right now? What if she let herself walk on bare feet through that fire? If, if…I could think of a lifetime marked by this hypothetical clause but that wouldn’t be enough; “If” is not enough.
The road was slippery and cold. My feet were trembling as the nod in my stomach was pulling harder and harder my insides. I was trying to control myself to every bite of her lip. The sadness in her eyes was such a seductive burdain. She kept her glare mostly public, letting me study her while swallowing her own saliva hardly. Her collar bones had an intriguing form of a flying bird, somehow being in accordance with her unclear thoughts. She had an unusual perfume that I can hardly describe. Perhaps that would be one of the last things I could possibly describe. The view was still foggy but her smile resembled a lot to summer. I could feel her sorrows inside me, burning and forcing me to talk. The last few meters were the worse. We had found our way out of the forest and the mythical moments we had were fading away into the darkness. It is her eyes the last image I remember; filled with doubts.

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Nyctophilia.

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  My eyelids were getting heavier but I couldn’t persuade my mind to fall asleep. January has always been the coldest of all months. Her chicks were almost frozen. Their bloodish pink colour was obvious from far away while her sparkling eyes couldn’t get any brighter. I always believed that her name was perfectly chosen for her personality; the Greek goddess Hecate would be proud.
She was lying by my side. It was a bit after midnight. Her hand was moving slowly in my hair, playing with it until I closed my eyes. I was feeling her intense look. She put her knee between my legs as if she was a bit provocative but at the same time stretching her tired body. I felt her hand moving lower, closer to the main neck vain but I wouldn’t open my eyes. I put my right hand under her cheek while my left one wrapped her to me. She continued her soft and gentle movements until I fell into deep sleep. Even in my dreams, I could see the purity in her eyes. It was magnificent. Never have I ever seen before such an intense glare.
It was a little before dawn when I opened my sleepy eyes and kissed her forehead. She sighed hard as if she carried a great burdain. I took her face into my hands and held her tight to my bosom. We stood there for a few minutes while the first sun hays were trying hard to push away the dark night. The moon persisted a bit longer in the sky and the room was still dim. I brought her face up to the level of mine and leisurely touched her lower lip with my thumb. A little while before the disappearance of the moon we engaged into deep sleep together. The next moment she opened her eyes, the room was smelling of fresh made coffee and a little bit of snow. She half-smiled and hugged the mug I served her with both hands.

Catharsis.

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      The road got slightly uphill and the stars were fading away into the midnight sky. His shadow walked beside me, conversing and laughing with me until a sudden silence froze the scene around us. I was able to hear his heartbeat, the way it rushed then paused for a few milliseconds and then quickened again. It felt as if he was struggling to win a battle that was taking place inside him. A curious sensation overwhelmed me. I needed to know the strategy that his mind was plotting and perhaps more than that; I needed to know his soul’s secret. My eyes weren’t enough for such a deep inquiry so I looked at the stars, waiting for them to give me an answer to my torturing thoughts. The shadow disappeared as if he was afraid of my insane gesture. The arrogant smile that was drawn on my face pointed me as a woman of unsound mind. I had a bitter taste in my mouth and my hands were freezing. I was staring at a door that appeared miraculously before my eyes and the temptation to walk through pushed me closer to it. A certain warmth was floating towards me from whatever was behind that door. I was skeptic whether to cross the line or not as the thought of what’s hidden behind agitated me.

     You see; my shadow had left me. He was scared of coldness. The thought that I might leave him first pushed him away. I was trapped between his fears and my own demons that begged me to be sincere. The only way to make him come back to me was to step in my flaming hell and confess what I have done.
     Maybe that was the exit of my labyrinth. I had all my cards opened and even if the choice seemed to be his, it was actually mine because I had nothing to fear anymore. I knew that whatever I would choose my heart will be peaceful.

Pathos.

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      It hurt. The feeling of loss hurt deeply my insides and the most surprising of all was that I did not expect that kind of pain. My head had run wild as my heart and I was impotent of spilling any words. I sat there in silence, torturing myself until I fell asleep. But that wasn’t the solution to my problem. Even in my dreams I had a considerable pain without knowing its’ roots. I thought he was incapable of provoking me such an alternating feeling.
    The smell of fresh snow that came in of the window waked me up. Once I opened my eyes the itching in my heart intensificated. My skin was cold and the unscrupulous winter threw at myself another wave of icing air. She was the devil that played with my demons. I got lost into the hell that I had created before, that once comforted me. Who would have thought that my own game will be turned against me!
     I have come to the point of loving him and most importantly, needing him. He has become part of my sins and my pleasures. I couldn’t stand my bed without him in it or my arms around my pillow. I needed him to be that pillow, I needed him to warm me up.
      The minutes that followed I was tantalising between two options: running up those stairs, risking his rejection and crawling up into his bed or staying there, in the mud of my ego, risking to lose him for good. What would have been more catastrophic; the fact that I tried and it didn’t work out or the bubble-bath with my worse enemy?
      I decided to stand up on my feet and close the window. I rushed a jacket over my shoulders and in less than a minute I found myself in his room. He was sleeping and the unpleasanty of his mood was easily heard from the way he breathed. Without even talking I laid beside him and hugged him with my one arm. He opened his eyes slightly and then he closed them. I was gazing up at him desperately, waiting and wanting. With a sudden movement of his body we became two parallel flesh lines and his arm moved around my waist gently. He squeezed me to his chest and I couldn’t keep it anymore. I sighed hardly as if my heart had broken in half and someone had sewed it back together.
      For hours I could not sleep. I was just staring at him and somehow feeding my tiredness with his sleeping. I don’t remember when I finally fell asleep too but I remember the time I woke up. He was staring at me and when I caught him, he closed his eyes rapidly.
    The weather was even colder and dark as if the skies were preparing their revenge on us.