I’ll let you go, I’ll let you fly…

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Because my love wasn’t meant to be your prison, it wasn’t about frustrations and bitterness. It was clear and pure like the blue sky, beautiful and unreachable like the heavens above. My vision was all about joy…

He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Don’t be silly, I’m happy with you.”

But his blue eyes were searching for the immensity of a big, free horizon and his arms were wide open to an endless flight.

You love me.

It wasn’t a question, even if it sounded like one. A simple fact, an honest affirmation that he confirmed, holding her a little closer. “And you don’t?” It was meant to sound a little childish, a little playful, but his trembling voice turned it into drama.

Love will never be enough, wouldn’t it? 

She whispered the words like a sacred prayer. The only voice that answered was the voice of her conscience. She’ll never be the right one. Never enough. Different worlds and a broken bridge. How do they meet in the middle? When honesty is killing illusions and tenderness is nothing but temptation and sin.

That’s why I’ll let you go. 

Crying eyes and crying hearts. This was not in the script, not as she imagined. Neither she pictured his hands cupping her face, kissing her like he was fighting for the last breath of air. She did not struggled so he stopped. “You saw behind the role, you saw it through. You saw ME beyond my walls.”

She gently took his hand.

I never told you, but I saw more. You flying free, reaching out to such a high blue, such an impossible dream to me. You finding her. The one who can be more where I am less.

His face turned pale, his eyes filled with guilt…oh, he did, He’s already there, one step away, half heart already estranged. “My sweet angel, I…”

So she just ran.

He opened his wings and fulfilled his destiny. He is loved, he is well, he is free.

Was she an angel for letting him go? Was she a fool? Was she just a woman in love?

Was she faithful, was she brave?

Am I? Are you?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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So tired of love songs…

6594026315_fec38821cd_bHe looks at me with such innocent eyes. “But you liked the music…” He wants to know why do I look so sad. Why do I feel so alone. Why can’t I listen to the damn radio anymore. “Why?”

Torn between love and hate, reality and appearance, “you and me” and “us”, I choose to lay still, waiting for the storm to pass me by. It happened before and I survived, so I embrace the silence and I just close my eyes. Just…don’t. Don’t make me listen to this melody on repeat.

Do anything else…

Run your fingers through my hair, like you used to…

Kiss my neck gently, sending shivers through my body, like it was before…

Hold me tight, let me feel the warmth and the safety of your arms around me, like you promised to…

Or, maybe, walk away, leaving me with my thoughts. I’ll let you go peacefully, like I always do.

Just stop the love songs.

“I thought you like this playlist.” It’s not making sense, is it? But my sadness it’s a tender one and these tears are meant to make my eyes brighter. He’ll never understand. We played it too often and too easily…the game of love. We took it for granted and I lost. It wasn’t me, it wasn’t you…so who’s to blame?

But, if only for one moment, he could touch my heart, he would understand. He would feel it breaking in pieces and he would know…

“Why are you so sad?”

Because I love you. And it’s killing me inside.

 

 

 

 

All credits for the photo goes to: https://www.flickr.com/photos/skynoir/6594026315/

 

Lured into the danger…

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I thought we’re more when we were less…

His eyes are like water, they change color depending on who’s disturbing their clarity. He’s smiling and the greenest waves of passion are flowing from these eyes I only begun to know, into mine. He’s smiling because of my foolishness.

Still, today we wont do our silly routines of chatting about small things. Today I am sad. See, being a dreamer has its costs, but who am I to protest? Who am I to demand or to even ask him to play it my way…

Who am I to see more behind his watery eyes?

Who am I to trouble the clarity of his untouched dream? Just because…

I took my masks off a moment too early and it was awkward. My anguishes, my fears, my demons, my world! Who gave me the right to create this freak show in front of him? This wasn’t in the script! This wasn’t in his perfect fantasy! So now I’m facing the shame…

I proved myself to be unworthy of his trust. Hey, what’s new? Is not like it would be the first time…when I’m blinded by my ridiculous faith in people. Kindness will be rewarded with kindness and trust will be honored through honesty. Really?

Of course not. I was only kidding. Relax, we’re best buddies. Oh, kidding again! What a weird sense of humor!

I watched him leaving and it was a bitter-sweet feeling. I cried a little, then I remembered that you cannot lose something you never had. And I did something…I gave him a fortune cookie with one single line on it. A question. He’ll read it in the privacy of his happy home.

“Why do you call yourself an Eagle if you just stay there, locked into such a tiny cage?”

No more of that, I promise. I was lured into the danger of believing we’re friends. Not anymore. But I have to admit it…he role-played it perfectly. No hard feelings about that.

Be brave, fearful eagle! Who knows what you might find behind your own mask…

And be happy. For real.

 

Longing to be saved…

4619299022He stops the car into the emptiness of the dead field. It used to be all green and beautiful, filled with colorful flowers and dancing butterflies. 

I must have said it in a loud voice, because he has a bitter laugh.

“Yeah…and this car used to be functional. And you used to be more supportive, more positive about things…Life changes, babe…Eh, well…let’s see if I can fix it, or we’re going to spend the night here on this damn field!”

The tiny mirror from the car reflects my tired eyes. I’m tired of wasting dreams…

Why can’t we ask for help?

He ignores me, but I know the answer, I saw it too many times…this pride is killing our love through resentments and vanity. And maybe he’s right, I should be more supportive…

The lights are blinding me and I can’t see who’s in that other car. What are they doing here? Will they stop to help us or maybe to take us back to town? But the other car doesn’t stop, they’re driving in circles around us.

What’s wrong with these people, can’t they see we need help?

Someone from the other car opens the door while they’re still driving. He’s throwing something towards us…

Broken glasses. A stone…

Another one.

Screams and blood and smoke.

How could they? We’re hurt and alone, defenseless and frightened. What kind of people don’t stop to help us?

“People like you and me, babe. Very skilled in criticizing and throwing stones at each other. Let’s hear, tell me how I destroyed your life once again!”

I remember how it all started. We were fighting and I said the words. I blamed him for destroying my life. And we just got lost, loosing track of time, forgetting our common destination.

He comes to me and breaks the car’s door with bear hands. Savage hands. I need these hands to embrace me, to give me strength, to comfort and to save me. He touches me and I froze, knowing now…we wont survive this time…

Green…flowers…love…you…stop!”

He stops the car and we’re in the middle of the dead field. Was it a nightmare, or the nightmare is just about to begin? He cups my face and the warmth in his eyes is melting down all of my fears.

“I need to fix this.”

“No, please, don’t go out. Something horrible is going to happen, I’ve seen it all before…”

But he’s already gone and I’m breaking down in tears.

A gentle, delicate smell and a tender touch…

images“A flower? Here? On the dead field?”

He smiles.

“This flower survives even the most terrible winters. See how fragile she is? And still so strong, just like you. Just like us. She survives cold, loneliness, desperation. Our love is longing to be saved and we’re the only ones…”

I prayed for a hero, I was longing to be saved…

I know it now. Every prayer is listened, even when the answer is right under our eyes…

 

 

 

 

Mesmerized

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His fingers rest -for what it seems to be an eternity- on her delicate neck. So pale, so tender and fragile, what a sweet temptation for his egocentric fantasies. To rule her world.

He smiles. The sweet sound of surrender when he takes her closer, so close that their shadows become one and she’s nothing but an extension of his strong body.

Leaning over, he kisses the pale, cold body of hers, and whispers something they only know. Is it a promise? Is it a request? Is it a plead with destiny? The kiss was shallow, but his eyes hold flames of passion and unspoken desires.

He takes her in his arms and she trembles under the hungrily touches. To discover, to create, to break boundaries and to find harmony into this chaotic sounds of love. This is his aim, this is what he does best. She’s helpless, but she never was a prey. Always his goddess.

Her whispers becomes screams and the screams become music. He feels redeemed by her undying need for more. His own need -to be the ruler of this fairy tale kingdom of hearts- is fulfilled in tears, in agony, in desperation, in ecstasy.

He’s tired but the shine in his eyes is undeniable. He kisses her neck once more before gently laying her pale body next to him. He reaches his hands to the sky in a silent prayer. A gesture of gratitude.

“Thank you, Father, for I am blessed with Your gift.”

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And the crowd is calling his name, again and again. Their ovations are loud and honest, since they witnessed an act of love.

And my heart is broken.

He finds me and takes my hand. I’m cold and I’m trembling.

He looks deep into my eyes. He kisses my fingers.

A little girl gave him a red rose. He puts it in my hair. The crowd cheers his gesture louder and louder. Their voices are sincere, since they witnessed an act of talent.

“Say something, darling, this silence is becoming awkward.”

And I am mesmerized.

“Make love to me like you did with her…”

“What? Are you drunk? I was in concert all morning, in front of you! You insecure, crazy, jealous witch!”

He takes his violin and leaves me there, with his cheerful gallery of fans. They’re laughing, seeing my tears streamed face.

They are right. They witnessed an act of betrayal.

 

“U-hum”…

51eaf1b9d4e2f5d658f9f0fc3ab92040--female-clown-costume-clown-costumesI just made the ugliest cake ever. I’m looking at it right now, trying to find something nice, anything at all. Nothing, it’s horrible. I wanted a blueberry heart and it looks like…like a bucket of grapes ready to burst out.

I cried in front of the ugliest cake ever. My mascara created dark traces on my face. I have whipped cream on my hair and something sticky…probably a little piece of that pineapple that made the whole kitchen sticky. I became a fruit salad…

The dirty dishes gathered together in an attempt to destroy the last trace of dignity in me. They succeeded. I gave up when I saw the mountain full of left overs. I wanted to run away. I opened Facebook in a desperate attempt to convince myself that these things happen to all of us…

Nah…Little delicate gift boxes wrapped in red ribbons! A friend who looks like a model just bought some fantasy pair of shoes. Yep, they have wings! Perfect kids, who never get sick, never throw tantrums, never say “I hate you!”. Love till the end of days with sweet notes and romantic gestures!

And me…with sticky hair full of whipped cream, with dripping mascara and a horrible bucket-look-alike-cake!

And I…I love him…

And I…I understand…

Why he…just…stopped…

It’s getting late. My horrible cake sleeps carelessly in the fridge. I did the dishes and I closed my Facebook. I threw away my expectations. Tomorrow I may throw away the bucket-look-alike-monster. Who knows, maybe I’ll even get rid of the whipped cream from my hair.

Or not…

(Or I’ll just go to him, with the ugliest cake ever, sticky hair and dripping mascara and I’ll innocently ask him “Do I look pretty?” And if he says “U-hum” without even giving me a glance, like he always does, the look-alike-bucket-monster will finally have a clear destination…)

 

Where wild horses run free…

white-thunder-arabian-abstract-marcia-baldwinThat’s where you’ll find me. Because my heart is a wild horse too…

He looks into my eyes and I see shadows of guilt into his. He knows he’s driving me away but he still does it. And he can’t explain why, not even to himself…

But I do…and you cannot argue my argumentation, just like you can’t deny that flames burn if you put out the fire with bare hands. My arguments come from a burning soul and the hurt inside is the living proof that I still…

I still run from you. And today, for the first time, I discovered the place where wild horses run free. Follow me there, I dare you! Catch me if you can! Can’t you? Won’t you?

He stars at me and I laugh so hard…

It’s alright, I don’t mind. I’m used to walk alone on the dark alley. I’m okay with facing fears and tears and snakes and shadows. I will dance by myself. And I will pray…

But, for now, I’m staying right here…

Where wild horses run free. And I’ll give you a fair chance…

Catch me while you can…my wings are growing faster and stronger. Can you handle my wild side?

It’s alright, I thought so. I’m not very keen to expectations anyway. 

He takes me in his arms, he thinks I’m his. He loves me when I’m quiet and no one told him about the storm, the thunders, the wilderness and the burning flames.

Find me, I dare you. But not today…one day…When your heart will be a wild horse too…

 

 

One day I’ll be thankful too…

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I can’t remember for how long…it seemed like an eternity…I just stood there, on the cold, wet bench in the park, with leafs and cold rain drops falling over me…Dark sky above me, dark thoughts inside…

I know that children get sick and catching a flu is natural in this cold weather…and I know that a house can get messy, things all around…and I know they need me…but…Lord…I’m tired, didn’t get much sleep, haven’t got the time to eat…and I turned to him for comfort…and…once again…he’s tired and frustrated too…I just need to feel loved…just a little bit…

I don’t know how did he find me there, since the bench was pretty isolated…and I can’t explain this joy I’m feeling inside when I see him…

-Christian!

-Hey…you forgot your umbrella again? Here, take mine…you’re frozen! Come on, let’s go somewhere nice and warm…

I need fresh air…just for a minute…

He’s putting his arms around me and all I can do is to close my eyes and pray this is more than a dream. I feel his fingers through my hair…

-What’s that? Oh, I hope I didn’t break it…

My silver necklace…St. Benedict medal..I always wear it in my moments of dark…just a reminder that someone, somewhere…still loves me…

-That’s my…

-This is a Saint Benedict medal! Why on earth are you wearing such thing? You know, there’s a thin line between…are you aware of the significance of this?

Saint Benedict medal is a symbol of the fight against evil. People also wear this medal sometimes when they’re praying for an easy, painless way of dying. Still, the power is NOT in the medal itself, but in the faith and love we’re carrying in our souls.

-And why is this bothering you?

-Because you deserve more than this blind faith in something that never answered, never proved to be real!

And I can’t take it anymore…

-Let’s make things clear, Christian! Tolerance is a two ways street. Don’t think I didn’t noticed how you never miss a chance to say a bad word…and don’t think I didn’t noticed that tattoo of yours, with the black sun! Yes, I did! Next time you attack my faith, be prepared to defend yours!

-Okay.

And he walks away.

Abandoned and alone, here I am, in the cold November rain, still refusing to cry, still not able to go home, still willing to believe…

It felt like forever…

The smell of something sweet and his warm touch.

-I brought you…this.

A chocolate cookie…

-I bought it from the bakery across the street…I don’t know if you like it…

-It’s perfect…thank you. And forgive me…

-I kicked myself for talking like that to you…is just that…

No, it’s my fault and only! I sounded so arrogant and superior like I’m some kind of preacher when I’m just a lost soul…filled with doubts and fears…And I’m so thankful, so grateful to have you in my life…

-Please let me say it…One day I’ll be thankful too. I will believe too. But for now, I need this anger, I need this rage…to keep myself alive. This is my way of surviving.

Tears are running down my cheeks.

I guess you’re smarter than me…my way of surviving was always Love. Look where it brought me…

He takes me in his arms.

Love is a two ways street too, just like tolerance. I need you…but you need to go home…And one day, when all this rage will be just a wild memory…I will be thankful too. 

 

Just breakaway (Out of the darkness!)

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The stage was set and the little girl walked right to the microphone. All lights were on her and her hands were trembling. I thought she’ll drop the microphone. I thought she’ll run away. I prayed she would…

He’s holding my hand and I’m squeezing his fingers too hard so he pulls off. I don’t want to witness this but I can’t turn my head this time. I feel guilty…I tried, I really did…but I was called “out of fashion” and “envious” and “jealous” and “with absolutely no taste when it comes to music” and “just a country girl” (I kinda liked the last one).

Yes, they said all these words. The proud parents of the little girl dressed in a black leather dress, with a make up that makes her look tired and cheap. With a black choker way too similar to a collar. I was out of line, I admit. I threatened to call the Child’s Care and they laughed. I spoke about morality and about protecting her image and they ignored me.

Then I used big words like abuse. Emotional abuse. About endangering this innocent child. About using her as a tool to get more fame and money. About selling her soul and her life along with theirs.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you a fanatic? She’ll perform her number just like she was taught to!”

The girl heard me and she started to cry. I made a child cry right before the big show…Yes, I do feel guilty…

He feels the same, even if he doesn’t express it that abruptly. I know he does…I take his hand into mine, looking for comfort…He’s cold as ice.

-How can they expose…

He turns to me and the anger in his eyes leaves me speechless.

-Look, I’m tired of your complaints. I didn’t wanted to come here, you dragged me! But you can’t simply relax and enjoy the show, do you? No. You need to argue, to create drama, to get all the attention!

And he walks away…

I’m here all alone with my tears and my betrayed sense of justice. I’m so sorry…I’m not an attention-addict monster…I’m not a drama queen…I’m just…Just me, the same as I always was. And losing him hurts more than losing any fight for justice. So I surrender…

The little girl sings with a lost voice. Not really wanting to be there. But you know…the show must go on…

Or not.

A harsh sound just interrupted the show. Something’s wrong with the sound. The microphone just became dysfunctional. And my phone is beeping…

I’m an idiot. But, when you cry, I get angry. I want to fix it, whatever it is. So, stupid me, instead of fixing,  I destroyed. If you can forgive me…I’m right outside. 

PS: It will take a while for them to find out…what caused the damage of the sound system, but still…hurry up.

PS2: You with the talking, me with the breaking…we’re still an incredible team, aren’t we, babe?

Yes, we truly are.

What kind of demon are you?

The pain irradiated in my left arm, leaving me breathless. The lack of air and the sudden weakness awoke an old panic inside me (I’m…I think…I’m having…a…panic attack…)

“Or maybe a heart attack. Or maybe you’re just dying.”

His tone shows no compassion, no mercy, no love. It harms me more than anything I ever experienced. I feel like crying, but I swear…I will never cry in front of him! So I close my eyes and surrender to pain…

I’m wearing a laced black mask. I can’t see myself and the black veil on my eyes makes everything so dark…Where am I? I crossed the bridge…but the place looks so different from what I remember. This is where we used to lay on the fresh green grass, looking at the clear blue sky, hand in hand, making promises to each other. Promises that never came true…Me and my love. The Shadow.

Is all dark and cold and I miss him…The black mask is covering my face. Suspicious eyes around me and steps getting closer. Fires burning around us. I’m one of them…Someone takes my hand and…I want to tell him that I’m lost. I came here looking for someone I loved. And I’m surrounded by…

-Demons. You’re not lost.

Can you read my mind?

-No. I just feel your fears. May I?

He wants to take off my mask. NO. (No fears. Show courage. Don’t let him see inside.)

-I will take off my mask when I decide! Not a second before.

He smiles.

-What kind of demon are you?

-A very powerful one, believe me! (Yes, believe it. Believe every lie. I will get out of here!)

He touches my hair with soft gestures. Kindness. He’s gently leaning on me. The touch of his cold lips on my neck makes my knees tremble. Is it fear? Is it lust? He’s deceiving me with his tenderness…and I…

-Why don’t you take off your mask so I could kiss those beautiful eyes of yours? You are safe with me…

-What is your name?

He laughs and the fire burns higher and closer.

-What a silly question…now, if I tell you my name…wouldn’t you throw me to the fire? Say “I promise”.

I promise.

-Maybe…if you say pretty please…

Look, demon! I’ll never ever beg you for anything! Not if my life would depend…

The fire in his eyes burns me inside and my heart is nothing but a flame. It hurts and I…

-Please…I…

-That sounded great. Now say that you’re mine!

The black laced mask is suffocating me. I choke and I gasp for air and my lips…they’re burning with…desire? To be his…The words will damn my soul and everything that’s still pure in me fights against it.

-I’m…

-Say it!

There’s only one way. The peace of letting go. No more fighting…

-I’m NOT a demon. Here, take off this stupid mask, I have no power, I need no power. Look into my eyes. See? See the bright light? Is called Love. Go ahead, take it. Take this lost heart and burn it to the ground…I will survive the pain.

Blue skies above us…he puts little white flowers in my hair…”My Love, I’m holding on to our promise…till the end of days.”

“Or maybe a heart attack. Or maybe you’re just dying.”

I open my eyes. There’s no anger, no resentment in my voice. Neither in my heart.

-Well, I’m afraid I can’t humor you on that one. Not today, anyway.

“I didn’t meant…I was joking…I don’t want you to…it was only…stupid words…”

Stupid words. Creating hell inside our hearts. What saved me? A love they call “sinful” and “forbidden” is still the purest part of me. A courage they call “crazy” and “delusional” made me take off my mask. So, what shall I pray for?

Dear God, when my broken heart sinks to the deepest of hell, please remind me who I really am.