"Here is my secret. It is very simple: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.."- Antoine de Saint Exupéry

Kiss

1 + 1 = Love

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A Million Shades of Blue

Shades… A million shades… The afternoon was made out of so many shades between the black and the white.
The sky was not perfectly blue, the heart was not perfectly light, the hope was not really a hope.
If it would have been love or no love at all, all would have been so simple, but the heart was flooded by all those shades of colors and feelings and electricity boldly lingering in their touch. It was a delirium of things and images passing before her eyes while she was processing the remains of the previous days.
“Why is life not simple like in those romantic movies where all is fine?” was the thought lingering in her mind while watching him stop in front of another little shop, with the amazement of a child that has just seen something he was hoping to discover for a lifetime.
Entering the shop she realized that it would make a beautiful present to compensate his birthday. She missed it, it’s true, but not because she didn’t care, but because she didn’t know him yet back then. But still, she would have loved to have been there with him that day, and in her heart she was.
He loved them all. It’s true, they were all beautiful ties, hand made, real, just like he loved to feel authentic and sharp and real…
With a smile in the corner of her soul she sent him to have a look in the back of the store while she took the tie he had admired in the very first moment. 69 pounds, that was the price. It was perfect. The colors were perfect, shades of color, shades of life. The price spoke volumes. To him it would have probably meant an erotic thing, but to her it was a tangible translation of the moon dust trapped inside their bones, of their breath as they were kissing and talking about the muses watching over their love, of the raise and fall of their entwined souls, or the incarnation of all the things that were present in that very second when she wished him happy birthday, now, better later than never.
In the back of her mind there was only a song lingering talking about the raise and fall of the same moon dust that was still shining in his eyes just like that night when they have met the first time, not even knowing if tomorrow will ever come or if there will be a chance for another minute together.
The day was fading, in the corridors of the city, in the tunnels covered in graffiti, as the two lovers were getting back from a city adventure that meant all and nothing, while lights were shining on the side of the road, like fireflies dancing songs known only to themselves.
And the light was dying in millions of shades of obscurity, while the moon, all alone, saw the loneliness crawling back in the souls of the eternal loners.

500 words, memyselfandela, September 2013


Beautiful

It was flowing, vivid, all over my back. Warm. Dribbling. Unceasingly. Waking me up from the tiredness. Waking me up from my own death. Lingering on my spine. Giving me the shivers. Flowing , caressing my skin, and from my skin penetrating inside my tired bones, and from my bones penetrating like an echo in my very soul, echo lingering between the end and beginning of me and between the walls of my solitude… The shower revived me, but it was a fading reminder of your hand. Your hand, lingering in my soul. Your hand, touching decaying flesh but ending in the core of what I used to remember as being me.

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Life is a flow. It has been a lot of emotion flooding. It has been a lot of tears drowning me. It has been a lot of paddling alone on a sea of solitude. From the moment I opened my eyes without worries in this world to the point where I was scattered in million painful pieces wondering each if they still belong together or if they should stay forever apart. Life is a flow, just like the time. The time in the sand glass has ended. I have turned it. Now all flows backwards, now my heart fills up with the touch of your longing hand.

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In the dark corner of a lost pub we are listening to seagulls screaming on the quay. The waves kiss passionately roaring behind metal bars imagined to keep us safe. An old couple eats supper while we share the taste of light and color. It smells like chocolate brownies and vanilla ice cream. It tastes like heaven and rain, like beads of sweat on your upper lip melted  by my lips kissing your very soul. It smells like heaven and you smile beautiful like a rainbow.

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300 words, memyselfandela, August 2013


Crossroad

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time has no longer price
the wasted time will never come back
the wasted love will never heal
the broken dreams will never get resuscitated.

if this was a crossroad of life
you should carefully think which direction to follow
hope cannot be easily found
and not many roads lead to it.

I have lost you a long time ago
you and your kiss bold as the green apples
but in a dream I’ll wait for you
until I have no more reason to wait anymore.
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memyselfandela, 2013


100 Words and a Kiss

“The mouth is made for communication, and nothing is more articulate than a kiss.” Dugutigui

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People speak so many words in order to express feelings, yet I gave up on words when I realized that verbalization tends to often be a waste. I don’t believe in words anymore. Sure they’re beautiful, but there is a huge difference between saying and doing things. Like the difference between the cold perfect roses bought in a flower shop only on Valentine’s day and the simple wild rose picked from a fence and brought as a surprise in the evening just to steal a kiss from your lover. You see, it’s true, nothing is more articulate than a kiss.

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100 words, memyselfandela – August 2013

 


Fly

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Anger? Hate? What would be the perfect word to carve into my arm? What do I allocate this tender, fleshy space between my elbow and my wrist to? No, this is no place for lamentations… Love? Peace and Light? No, I should tattoo that I love you, that I love your feet and your heart. Your big feet. And that I live for those moments when all I want to hear is my little breath next to the amazing sound of your thumping heartbeat.
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I had to sigh a million times till I could finally start to breathe… Breathe with my heart and soul , not only with my lungs… LIVE , not only biologically exist… Embrace my intense feelings, not only feel and get crushed underneath them… And what I found out is that in a lifetime we break and fall a million times, but baby, sometimes after we fall, we can finally fly…

memyselfandela, July 2013


Night With Love

It’s dark and I really don’t care. I feel your hand holding mine and we have all we need. We don’t even talk and we have all we need. I have the taste of your lips on mine and I cannot stop smiling uncontrolled. It’s long after midnight. The moon smiles with a white powdered face glowing at us. On the way home your arm holds my shoulders and I put my arm around you. Tipsy and happy we return home. Home is a place in Heaven. We are.

bouche

memyselfandela, July 2013

” Three matches one by one struck in the night
The first to see your face in its entirety
The second to see your eyes
The last to see your mouth
And the darkness all around to remind me of all these
As I hold you in my arms.”

ParisatNight

(Paris at Night, Jacques Prevert)