There's a moment in life that living vicariously doesn't help, doesn't inspire, it doesn’t do anything for the soul. The soul has to feel and live its own experiences. The soul has to wake up and adjust, and vibrate and explode and be born again, and recollect the memories, remove the scars, lose and find something. The soul has to change the pace of time; it has to encounter its precise moment to bloom. There’s a moment in life that life happens and it happens the right way, with the right people.
To Someone
The architecture of the city is plural and restless. Your voice comes and goes. The sky was pale blue today. White here and there. Clouds. Whispers. Our dialog is more vivid now. I still see how intense your eyes are. You come and go from me. But I know you never really leave. At least, that is the illusion that keeps me - going? I see patterns. They make sense. Like you made sense a while ago. I can't reason with Love, can I? Love, this palpable, irrational measurement of attachment and desire. I don't know if you are the same anymore. The same I knew. Did I ever know you? It doesn't matter because you fit like a symptom fits a disease. You fit my fantasy. My fantasy was so concrete and so tangible. I play us in my head. If I had. If you had. But history doesn't rewrite itself. I can't walk down the street to try and find you. Unchanged sea. Under the same sheltering sky. I love you.
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