… And so I want the REAL …
Feelings coming from the heart, not contrived by the brain. Not far-fetched. Real, real. When you stand next to me, and the ground leaves from under your feet. Or saying goodbye, I want to say “hello” again, and not let go. Nowhere. Never. And to mutually. And to his. Not someone else’s, with his dreams of other people’s faces, when you don’t know where to put your own. His. Native. To hug not as it should be, but not to say what is written. And I was with you, not because I was good, but because … Yes, I just don’t need anyone but you. That’s the problem. But we are adapted to understand who needs to be valued and who to hold on to. Well adapted. And the heart keeps silent. He already got it once. He needs to rest.
So we live … And we hold on. And we go to bed not with those we love. And we celebrate the holidays alone. And hugging under the night sky, we plan tomorrow’s working day. And we kiss without closing our eyes… And we pretend to believe….
– Butterflies… It’s empty inside… They are no more. Understand?
We fall asleep in other people’s beds and freeze under a duvet even in summer.
We freeze…