24 10 2014

It is easy, very easy.
I will never find you,
I will never be yours.

There is not such a thing as an happy ending, as I won’t be able to hope anymore.
Soon my heart will be a wasteland, I will dry all my tears and beyond that point there is no return.
My heart will wither and die.

But don’t we all wither? Don’t we all die? The signs I see on my skin, on my face, the wrinkles I am starting to gather aren’t those simple the epitome of a process that cannot be stop?
Not time, too simple, but instead the process of not being found, of not belonging, the process of an absence, the absence of love.

Who am I to say what’s love and what’s not?
Me that never gathered the strength to pierce my own armor?
I come here to tell myself what I cannot tell myself or anybody else and today is simply the fact I am alone and I will always be.

You don’t exhist. I don’t follow the normal protocols either.
Maybe my own exhistence doesn’t have enough firmness to be defined real.
I don’t exhist either.
I am the measure of a dream,
waning toward dusk.

the realisation it

being alone
is all i have
is all i will ever have

is all i am