Two days ago it was snowing, and I kept thinking of him, which I always do, I remembered a single, pathetic snowball, which happened to be thrown very weakly, landing on him and that he smiled at my weak effort. I often imagine him smiling, he had a million smiles and I loved every each one.
My favorite smile was when he was happy, the second when he smiled at me, third was the one which appeared right after he laughed very hard for a long time. It was a half exhausted but content smile. He smiled when he ate something he found delicious, he smiled when he felt desire or something naughty came to his mind. Just to keep him smiling I could have done anything. A friend of mine bursted out once accusingly 'you love him more than you love yourself!'. Well, I don't know exactly...All I knew was that smile kept me going on, made me think all my suffering wasn't in vain. It was him I was trying to find and now I have, He felt like home, he still does...
Once I told him I loved him so much that if I think of him even on my dying day I shall still weep. He didn't believe me I guess. No one does anyway...but I know that I will...as I do every single day.
Every each day since I met him there hasn't been a day that I haven't thought of him, even in my darkest days with my wounds bleeding heavily. Every each morning I say my good morning, and I tell him what happened that day in my mind all day, contemplating his answers, and every night I say a prayer for him as well. It's been like this since I met him. Maybe I should keep a journal for that purpose alone, maybe I will. Last night I saw him in my dream , we were on a trip to his dream city and he was trying to buy a scarf from a tabacco shop with lots of pipes and cigarettes in it. İt was a wide cream, brown, red coloured striped scarf and he was happy to have it. Me, I was just happy to be with him, as always. I think I was trying to buy a blue porcelain house. Anyways...Some nights I see him , some nights I don't. The worst part is I can't remember all of them and that gets me disappointed.
I know I sound miserable, Maybe I am. Sometimes it feels like thay robbed me of my colours, the music in my heart, The only time all day that I feel alive is when I read a few words of his, or catch a glimpse of him. I don't ask for much just enough for to survive my pathetic existence. Breathing ain't living and I am not sure what will survive the storm, me or the void in my soul...am I nothing but a scar I wonder...
I am in turmoil and in constant agony, deep down inside there is a dungeon I built hidden from sight. The shadows of my soul I keep secret say they hear weeping and see a bright shadow wandering off into the darkness sometimes.'The White Lady', She is the one he has awoken from sleep, the evergreen queen, the ungrown child, the woman...the roots of my very being have been shaken and she is the one who suffers the most. She keeps silent and so must I...
Still,
After all this time,
Tu mi manchi, mi querido...
Always...
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