STORM PASSING

This isn’t about a page, it’s about rage that I call for explanation. Can’t it be more torturing to breathe in smoked walls of eyes. Didn’t your heart used to sing sometime past? Oh, Dear! I wonder where this arise of yours came from? You shot me killed! you destructed the love in me, you shattered my voice to pain, with the tears tainted red again.
I found you like a deceit that troubled my mind, my hopes and my joy of loving. Masochist! I know you regret this. I know you don’t forget the impulse that energized us; we were 700 km away and I was devoted to you. Oh! You know, doubt come from silence. Well, you pressed the button of despair without real foundation.
I was, sorry and sad and melancholic, like the romantic being that I am. And you were black, you were the darker demon that broke my passion. You didn’t even dare to look at me, while you cut my spirit through my entire flesh.
I think, now, that fate came to personify you, like the avenger of a pink romance that I once crashed. My lament, then, was brave, but my choices were the weak, the irrational, the lost ones. My faith has been so deeply torn since those times.
When I see you in that picture I become aware of the karma that I placed on my heart. I try now to recognize the person, my lover: he is never sure. I am not sure, either.

It’s time to cut the patch of faces that ends the infinity of the stage in which we play and perform with love.

MY DRAMA HAS BEEN KILLED HOPES!
I RELEASE THOSE FEELINGS NOW!
YOU WASHED OUT MY BARE! YOU
BROUGHT ME THE CLEANSING
I AM GREATFULL TO YOU, NICOLAS!