Fierce love...Red heart

If you want me to say some stupid things to you, I will do so to satisfy your curiosity But, remember, truth sometimes can be harmful if you are not careful enough to take it sincerelly. Are you ready to hear me with all your heart? Are you? Or are you just pretending to stand up right there, pretending to be brave, pretending to be interested in me but just mocking at me? If you are, you are as stupid as me.

Stupid for listening to your petitions, for taking it seriously and by heart. So, so much stupid and so, so a silly little girl confessing her inner thoughts to a careless and frivolous tiny living thing. Where are we now? Just staring to each other as we will discover or open up our brains, killing our minds in a show off way of saying "I love you" and, on the ohter hand, hating each other. Me, because you have stolen my very last memory of him. You, because I obliged you to give up your unreachable dreams.

Why do I even wonder about it, the uncertain futur that is never besides us, that is always running away from us, that is always annoying me with futile desires? I would just like to jump the edge of that beautiful, high cliff. Jump to the open sea, jump to the blue and profound sky, jump just to test if my feathers exist in my back.

But, there you are. Again. Looking at me with those painful eyes, trying to retell me our love story behind our backs. " We loved each other, you know? Not as much as to hate each other now, it was more a tender love. It was not as passionate as to kill each other if we find out that we are having sex with other people. But, we loved each other at a pace that now we are still loving being in love". Perhaps he is not thinking that, but is me who is thinking it and reflecting my very deep feelings into him, imposing them to him, hitting his round and rude face with them.

I feel fear in my soul. I... I cannot give it all to him, not my very darkest corners. I cannot show it all just to know if he will still love me as I am. It is the best for us to remain, somehow, distant. But, for the momento, we hold each other hands even if he tightens this caress too much, even if I try to liberate my little, dirty hand, to get rid of his. I, somehow, still love him as he is. He, somehow, still love me as I am.

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