Strike one. 

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       I knew that when I will get home from my short trip I would find her in bed sipping wine and words. I never imagined though that the view will be like a thunderstorm on a sunny day. I never imagined that I could feel my soul climaxing, ending and beginning, sobing and smiling. 

     I entered the room and my eyes caught her: almost naked, her left hand holding a burning cigarette, her right hand holding a book, a glass of wine leaning on her waist, one leg straight and the other bent. If that wasn’t enough, you should have seen her face and aura. 

     I took off my pants, I plucked the buttons of my shirt and leaned on my belly diagonally. I lighted up a cigarette and the world just unfold.

     She wasn’t bothered by my presence. I was just staring. In a few moments though, my thoughts were coming out of my mouth. I began a monologue that her smirk interrupted a few times, her eyes blurred, her chick lines continued and her aura; oh, her aura just made my monologue seem insane.

     She asked what I was thinking about and I just could not resist it. Words came out willingly. 

     ” I would say I love you but that underestimates you. I would say you’re perfect but that offends you. I would say you’re the ideal woman but that’s just a classic.” 

     My soul was smiling and her glare was fixed and steady into mine. 

     She smiled. Oh gentlemen, you do not  know that smile. Her lips separate enough to make your body feel the tremor; not too little, not too much. It’s easy to distinguish the line that colors that smile. 

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42.

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      Își plecase capul pe genunchiul meu formând un unghi de zece grade spre stânga. O priveam în ochi dar simturile mele erau concentrate pe bătăile inimii Ei. Pulsa de sete iar zâmbetul schițat pe fața Ei indica o dulce tristețe. Acela era momentul realizării; oare este posibil să ai aceiași realizare de mai multe ori cu aceiași intensitate? 

   Lumea mea era asezata pe canapea, fumul excesiv de țigară îngreunând respirația, cel puțin așa mi-am zis eu, în ideea că mă voi crede. O priveam, o admiram, o devoram până am simțit că-mi scap inima. Mă aflasem în punctul în care organul meu vital și-a dat drumul, lăsând picături de sânge să se amestece cu moleculele aerului poluat; îi simțeam bătăile – într-un fel încă avea viață; poate mai în viață de atât nu se putea – în timp ce se pregătea de prăbușire; nu știam ce impact va avea căzătura mea, probabil fatală, dar a prins-o la o distanță de un milimetru.  Își plecase capul pe genunchiul meu formând un unghi de zece grade spre stânga. O priveam în ochi dar simturile mele erau concentrate pe bătăile inimii Ei. Pulsa de sete iar zâmbetul schițat pe fața Ei indica o dulce tristețe. Acela era momentul realizării; oare este posibil să ai aceiași realizare de mai multe ori cu aceiași intensitate? 

Incepusem să respir prin ea; îi furam oxigenul, dându-i cât mai rămăsese din al meu, îl inhalam si îl dădeam înapoi. Fenomenul se repeta continuu cu o exactitate necontrolată a secundelor. Amortisem fizic iar ea își mula perfect mișcările după ale mele. Nu aveam nevoie de gândire pentru a face următorul gest. Eram concentrată doar pe viață, incercam sa trăiesc, efectiv, la propriu, trăiam din Ea și Ea din puținul meu. 

Își pleca capul într-o parte și îi respiram pielea din zona gâtului; aroma ei se transformase în oxigenul meu. Sărutul, acest gest inexplicabil, fizicul, atingerea, nu erau de ajuns. Căutam în mine, undeva, cumva, să gasesc mai mult; nu aveam ce să-i dau mai mult.

În momentul acela am simțit o apăsare, o durere al dracului de frumoasă. Îmi luam oxigenul în continuare de parcă ar fi fost deja o normalitate iar în fața ochilor mei aveam cea mai cumplită imagine a Lumii. Imi priveam inima cum îngenunchează în fața Ei, pleacă jumătate din ea în față, se lasă incet și-și dă drumul în fața Ei. Zâmbeam, mă simțeam cum zâmbesc; ochii mei s-au umplut de lacrimi , gest de admirație a imaginii inimii mele. Mă asteptam la urmatorul său gest. Nu a făcut nimic. Aveam inima in genunchi în fața Ei iar ea o admira precum eu; privirile ei arzând iadul din mine. 

     O priveam lângă mine, îi înconjuram trupul și nu-mi puteam stăpânii dorința de a o inspira. Ochii îi luceau iar zâmbetul era ascuns în spatele unei seriozități ce arăta a realizare. Este oare posibil să ai aceiași realizare de mai multe ori? Căci în privința ei, am aceiași realizare în fiecare noapte și nu se pierde sentimentul de necrezut. 

     

     Mi-am ridicat inima și am pus-o la locul ei odată cu trezirea noastră la realitate. Fermecată de momentele anterioare, mi-a șoptit că mai vrea. I-a făcut plăcere să îngenuncheze în fața Lumii. Oare știa ce își dorește? Oare Lumea urma să o mai prindă? 

Da domnilor, știu, întrebări fără sens. 

Driven.

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Let’s have the relationship talk. Let’s be more specific than wondering about someone’s mediocrity.
Let’s talk about her.
The night was intense. It had fallen quickly and we were still standing there, immune to its’ fall. It seems, gentlemen, that the physical condition of a human being can easily be affected by words. More than that, when they said that you should undress the mind and then the body will get undressed on its’ own, they weren’t wrong.
What’s your relationship like?
How do you get in bed?
I was feeling aroused by words that had nothing to do with carnal satisfaction. The psychological analysis I received over a phrase of mine impressed me to the point of desire. Is that what happens to you too? I would really like to know.
I was once asked to write from someone else’s perspective, not mine. Therefore, I am imploring you to think of you as you read. Put yourself into the main role and play your part as I say; get the mask I am asking you to wear.
She needed to stand higher than me and that did not bother me. We talked about non-existent principles, impressions, wrongdoings and last but not least, her leaving if hurting will pursue. That intrigued me to the level of rising even if I was standing lower.
There was a continuous analysis of every phrase or argument we were bringing to the table.
Her eyes were sparkling, contemplating my thoughts, impatiently waiting for me to finish my line.
There was no mediocrity in the air.
My insides were burning in need of corruption.
I reached her lips and grabbed her in my arms filled with dreadful desire. Her body wasn’t enough. I needed more of her. I was inhaling her once again. Once I entered her, her facial expression became softer. Her eyes responded to my desire perfectly and I was craving her even more. More than I could ever imagine.
The relationship talk faded.

uncensored.

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Posted: https://livelovesmilee.wordpress.com/2014/06/22/do-you-love-him/

Original post (uncensored):

          Dear stranger,
I do not. Perhaps what I am saying seems a little, or a lot, nonsensical but you asked for my sincere answer and you should know that a sincere answer is what I am giving to you. I do not love him. I find it easy to admit or agree to such a thing and the reason why is simpler than you could ever percept. Whatever this feeling that cursed me is, it goes deeper than love. Since humans haven’t found a word for that yet or we may never find, I won’t let myself indulged into its’ charm. For love I have felt and it was not like this. It was indeed powerful, every emotion was triggered by it, but now, now it’s more than that. Now, the infinity of my feelings transfixes my body and has turned my feelings into a hunting warren. A warren of desire, seduction, empathy, vivacious feelings, feelings that if you ask me; I could even live for as eternity lies at dawn.
Maybe I should let you know, hoping you would understand my questioning this ”love” you want to name, that I have become a feathery person, sometimes even feeble. I am asking you please not to judge me or try to convince me that I should reconsider my statements, all because I will not. I am not gloomy. Do not ever understand that. I am as flippant as the hays of the sun on the sunup. You should see my expression now. A sough just escaped my lips, such a sweet and perky sough! It’s tingling my heart; this image of a demi-vierge person who craves for me as I crave for him every night. This rapture or cannibalistic need of flesh, which many of us may not understand, it’s provoking me a deep sensation of amour. I do not say love dear stranger. Mark that. I am biting my lower lip at the very moment and the hotness in the air has made my skin sweat. My humid lips have a salty taste of sweat. The hot breeze, the closed window, the feeble night, they all remind me of him. They all make me crave him even more, even sweeter. How can I make it understandable to you dear stranger?
In a parallel reality, where he exists only for me, or we might say that he is here for me, he touches my lower lip, undressing it from its’ salty taste with his own big softy lips. I fear writing to you the rest of the details so if you wish you can stop reading. If not, well…read on.

     I have a need to reprint into words the dream that fed my desire two nights ago. I was intrigued dreaming the same thing twice in one night. Perhaps, or as someone today implied, it was either my fear or desire, that broke the chains to dreaming wetly. Yes, dear stranger, wetly.

     In a former letter I have described you the expression on his face, of my saturnine man of course, but I omitted the erotic details. Those are that I am thinking about though. As I said, passion and rapture feed my dreams. His hand ran into me. As you see it, into me. Filling me completely. And oh! I would be called a liar if I didn’t admit that I loved it. More importantly, I felt it. My dream felt more real than any other dream. I am embarrassed admitting such a thing, or concerned of my own burning desires. However, I should tell. It was more than one sensation. My body was flooded. I felt like an ocean which couldn’t support any more water. Close to every imagination I have had, this dream pulled me to the edge, as all I have been thinking about the last forty eight hours is that.

     On a third long parallel line, runs my heart competing to all the above or helping them get to infinity. I do not know what it actually does but I feel it running. It has become a beast, a warrior among cyclops. I shall not lie, I do feel deep feelings for him. As I said at the beginning, it is all about some other inexplicable feeling that has not been yet named because there is no greater than that. Writing the last sentence, perhaps I stupefy my own self for writing about ‘love’ as the greatest of all, but you should know, I am not. All I want you to do is understand the difference.

     If I was a bird, closed into a roost, perhaps he would be my branch. In other words, he would be the freedom I have gained for myself. In even more words, he would be the one thanks to whom I have set my wings free to live without perks or boundaries, waking up every morning, setting my self to sleep, all with the knowledge of something greater than what we already know. Perhaps, life is all about that dear stranger. Perhaps not. You should not indulge into my thoughts, just listen and understand them.
As I said, I do not seek my cage anymore.”

Tears.

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The night was terrifying and silent. The void let the other emotions burst freely on the surface. It was the first time in months that a raindrop touched the earth without any hesitation. It fell abruptly from the eye and the second one followed. I was feeling the humidity in the air days now, but the heart of stone did not believe in giving in. The mind of the sinner refused to drown and fought hard to unravel the tangled thoughts. The meteorologists and my heart had predicted a thunderstorm. After the first raindrops, the others followed easily. It was hard to sham the pain as every thunder hit the bones of the thorax. The filmstrip seemed infinite. Myself and the tawny woman, both rubbed our forehead and covered our eyes. I could feel the skin under my nails hurting but the rain had to be stopped. I had created an ocean in which my sadness could reflect itself as if it had taken a human form; fine beauty, long curly hair, sparkling eyes. I wondered what is the source of that sparkle; radiating happiness, disturbing melancholy or painful regret?

Habromania.

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She believed in nothingness as I believed in the universe. She is a peculiar creature and fascinatingly stormy. She was lying half naked in the middle of that bed, staring at me. Her smirk provoked me but I could not move. I was sitting beside her with a paralyzed leg on the ground and the other one half-hanging on the bedside. Her skin was soft and the hays of the sun were creating quite an intriguing form down on her waist. The curtain was covering the other half of the window. The view outside was as magnificent as her sparkling eyes. I turned to look myself on the mirror at the headboard; her shirt fitted me. It was as if I was wearing a part of her. Her glare was hypnotizing. She took my hand into hers and brought it close to her face. I approached to hug her cheek. She inclined her head towards my hand as if she needed to feel me. She blinked hardly and slowly; for a moment I thought she would not open her eyes. The smirk on my face transformed into a straight line. Hers too. Our thoughts aligned, we were both aware about the uniqueness of that moment.

We escaped from the mountains and ran to the sea. The sun had hidden away and tension was dominating in the air. Even the stars were afraid to come out. The universe was absent those moments; she was well dressed but her emotions were completely naked. She was overwhelmed by the sea’s agitation. She was looking at me from the driver’s seat; perhaps a bit lost or disappointed. I did not know what feeling was really dominating in that moment. I felt as if my guts had been filled with sand and I could not breath. I felt a strange need to feel the cold breeze on my skin. The sea was stormy and dark. I had to go back. She said nothing and with the same feeling dominating inside her, she took a sharp curve to get back in the abandoned city. I was still having that nod in my guts. I thought she wanted to escape; I saw her fearful and indecisive. I think she felt the world was not enough to run; words were not enough; her thoughts were disturbing and a continuous loud voice would not let her rest.

The universe had to intervene. She was forced to stop driving. It had no importance why. We were stuck there; on a dark night, by the stormy sea, no human life pondering around, just a few stars on the sky and the harsh sound of the waves hitting the shore. She exhaled madly. The sunrise was an impeccable show of colorful shades; the moon that once was touching the sable line of the sea had been driven away by the marvelous burning sun. The shattering silence had been replaced by minor worries and laughters. In that moment I saw the universe in her eyes. She told me that mine were filled with nothingness; I had hidden my thoughts. I suppose that the love I felt took a little bit of alone time to grow and then it would show up again.

…to be continued.

Chimera.

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   I would tell you that I never wanted to associate this song with you; perhaps I wanted at least that to be mine, fully, unconditionally. I would tell you that I am filled with guilt and disappointment; perhaps that is what I should feel. I would tell you that I am disgusted of your eyes, your voice and your way of treating things. I would tell you all these lies, I would keep you away from me. I would laugh on the idea that it does not worry me; I would laugh on your face and tell you that I do not care. Sometimes it seems so easy to lie but these mentioned above, it’s impossible to say. Harper Lee says that you never understand a person until you climb into his skin and walk around in it. I do not contradict to this theory but walking on her skin; I cannot do. I tried and I failed when I realized that I cannot feed you with the lies I mentioned at the beginning.
     It was a shattering morning until I heard her peaceful voice. The night before, I saw her everywhere. She was entering that pub’s door at every turn of my eye. She had her hair down and then up, she wore black and at some point she wore red. She wore all colours and had all kind of expressions. She walked in every time a woman walked in. At four o’clock in the morning the alcohol’s effect was gone. That door opened again but she wasn’t the one stepping in. I saw a brunette woman, wearing a bright red lipstick and a slim fit pair of trousers. It was then when I realized that she’d never come. I smiled hypocritically and opened my eyes. It was just a nightmare. I was staring at her sleeping next to me and after a few minutes she opened slightly her eyes smiling too. She was biting her lower lip while I was touching her below her waist. How could I lie? She has become a bitter-sweet addiction; a necessary evil.

Disclosure.

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    She was seeing through me. That she never knew; I never admitted that she had conquered me. I feared that she would consider me such a fragile work of art. I did consider myself a peculiar person. “You are a rare species, your mind is always locked, unknown, twisted”, she said. I was gazing her temptingly. I took a deep breath desiring to complain on her statement. In a split of a second I exhaled back as if I never meant to say a word. In that moment I realized she was right.

     My silence is a blasphemy. I neglected her, offered her less than she ever offered me; I haven’t showed her the love that weights my heart. I have a nod in my neck that makes it hard to breath. Perhaps it is my way of regretting. I do care for her, I do love her in an inexplicable way. I am tormented by her dreams, her wishes, her unrealistic world. At the beginning, that’s what made me fall for her. Her way of laughing without boundaries, her craziness and her believing in warm-hearted people. She spread a light over my darkest nights.
     On a Sunday night I was all alone. She was gone. I didn’t understand why, I still don’t. ”I am tired of fighting your darkness”, she said. I took it as if she didn’t care. I let my ego ravish my soul. It pained me but it was easier than understanding her. Days later, she came back but I fear I might not be able to keep her close to my heart. She runs freely and I can’t take too much freedom.

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.

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.

Once Upon a Time…

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  In fairy tales there’s is a saying that heroes always win and villains don’t get a happy ending. In the real world, there isn’t a Savior, nor a Wicked Witch. In the real world, there exist only humans.
     As Prince Charming fell in love with Snow White, men fall in love with women and the other way around. But as you know, our world is more black-hearted than any villain. If love happens, it could be easily characterized, as Bukowski said, a dog from hell. As if an evil curse had fallen upon my thoughts tonight, I am blinded by a certain pessimism. I have no intention of withering your feelings so I shall call my fairy and have her make me a dreaming potion.
     I am looking at myself in a mirror and my eyes are tearful.
I feel my heart pumping worriedly. The cold night filled me with pain for the dear person that my soul’s seeking. The fact that he’s missing from me increases my blood pressure, feeding my brain with brooding thoughts and my heart with a sadness that comes from this nostalgic emotion. I’m wishing for his arms around me to warm me. I remember the nights when I was falling asleep on his shoulder. The thought of it only, that he was by my side, relaxed me and made me feel safe. I remember the color of his eyes when the tiredness was conquering him. They used to darken in an unique way that his sweet melancholy swam even more freely into his unshed tears. Even more impressive it was the way he blinked, patiently and wanting, like the world owed him and he would be prepared to wait as long as it took to be given his merits. I always wanted to believe that. Sometimes, I thought of another theory but the pain that it brought me, erased it quickly. I imagined; perhaps he is that way because he thinks he deserves it. I thought of that melancholy as his own self-punishment and I had no motive of such a cruel thought.
     Before waking up, I saw him again, laughing happily. I haven’t seen him many times in our real life laughing from his heart and every time I did, I fell in love with him even more deeply.

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.

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.

Autumn Desire.

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     The burning hell amused me. There was no ocean flooding those eyes but the insensitiveness of a broken man. He possessed the keys of many hearts but he preferred locking his. Even his smile was hidden. His lips curved politely when he laughed at a joke but I didn’t feel that laughter coming out as joy. It seemed more like a depressive loneliness. Each word that came out of his mouth insinuated something different from the true definition of it. His body was rocking by the music he listened and I could do nothing else but keep staring at him. Whether his hell accepted me or not, I insisted on staying despite the emotional disturbance that his demons were causing me.

     The crowd stopped my exasperating thoughts. Even the trees were too noisy while letting their dry leaves fall on the ground. They had created a majestic view that could calm any bittered heart. For a minute I forced myself to stop and stare at them. They didn’t seem dead to me. Neither his soul was dead. It resembled to those dried leaves of autumn. They didn’t seem alive to every person but only to those who cared enough to indulge into the spiritual world which they were keeping guarded from the cyclones of life.
     Every day I knew more of this man even if his depths were unreachable. I was still floating on the surface of his thoughts but that was enough for now. I was waiting for him to take away his sharks and let me dive in a little bit deeper. I just wanted to be the goldfish that would interject into his unabated waters.