Ohh… saying it out loud to you, “you’re beautiful”, just like that. It didn’t scare me much because it was meant to not mean much to you. One’s intention is to free himself from a thing that is real, an undeniable truth that smothers me whenever you’re present. Unique, only because no one will ever say it in this same way, there’ll be no others like this and you’ll sadly come to see it. Or maybe you won’t, for I’m the one who sees and you’re who’s being seen, always. Holders of depth, well, it’s actually hard to describe intentions and meanings but they certainly are true towards some sometimes. That blindness is what renders impossible many feelings shared that eventually end up becoming nothing but a memory, and memories are definitely not enough… they aren’t, yet they have to be. And that makes me laugh derangedly, all that loss that will not return, leaving me solely with said impression, and it becomes a wholeness that is never it, a played past that isn’t feasible again.
One, saying such things, is the epitome of desperate expression. Is to say the only thing that lacks being said, the last one, and to decide when it’s the moment to give someone this kind of ultimatum, to want to see good change take place while knowing it will not and so incite the happening of what might end there and not repeat. Desperately needing that culmination, that makes a man tremble, severely. But it needs to take place you see… a bold move, defining of a whole future ahead. That answer that you might not give me anytime soon or ever, but still the absence of that reply will bring me up, I’ll live, and we want so much to live, if not happily than in whatever way we’re capable of.
To confess you’re beautiful once is to admit myself as the one who sees nothing but comeliness in you, and that notion that will flood your mind then, will scare you a little but not as much as I’ve been myself for a long time, scared of your natural beauty and the estranging vulnerability that it brings to me, that ultimately will kill me for you, I’ll become memory if so you please, or nothing… maybe that’s better. A happy one.
I came to found myself scared of you never coming to put your eyes upon this nature of mine that is rare and qualifies me to find you only and ever more beautiful, never less. I got scared of this reality, I wouldn’t get more out of it and so I fled from you, my past.