Time stood still - Time was flying
it was early morning on that monday, the last monday of July.
After the moment i woke up laying in that bed, close to him, i was almost scared to find his sight on me.
Still there. There again.
And of all the kisses i lost track of i can't forget the first. And for the rest, better than kisses, i can't forget the words.
It's almost like i was so superficial not to care about every single little piece of time, but just the strongest ones, the slug in the guts.
Nothing more. Nevermore.
And now we're approching the evening of a saturday, the last saturday of august.
I haven't seen him since the morning he left, since the moment we briefly kisses and i closed the door even before seeing him taking the elevator and going away.
I was done of the night in a way. Not done with him. Never.
And yet I had to deal with the fact that it was nevermore. Just like pumpkins, the morning came and we turned back.
But for the first time in my life, ever, I wasn't just accepting it. For the first time ever I didn't deal with him just the way you do in this situations.
In every other moment of my life, with any other person, i would've just understood, and put barriers of time and space to just forget. And what was to be forgotten anyway? A week of dating and 36 hours of kissing? 36 and a half... almost 37. Not in a row, but from the first to the last one, without even knowing it would been so.
But this time...
This time i reacted not taking for granted what anyone else but me decided of something i was involved into as well.
This time for the first time I didn't just hit the road, telling myself stories about my highness and their mediocrity to make myself up, mend my ego, forgetting about the heart.
This time, i really honestly voted myself to being... a Claire.
A woman who make a man fall, make a man runaway, and is still able to have enough self-confidence to stick around after he left her, for untold reasons in an untold manner.
Yes, because after looking for me every moment he could for the whole week, after telling me the most flirty things about "the girl he adored", after showing me his world and squeezing me into his arms stopping untold words directly into my mouth with his by a river, after being amazed by my passion, after he couldn't wait an hour more to see me again, after telling me he could've been so crazy to wait a year for me to come back and stay with him, after watching me sleeping and wanting me more the air he was breathing heavily...
After all of this one expects the first moment of a springing realationship to carry a sweetness almost unbearable.
Shouting it all out hurt me so bad like a hand grasping and torching me inside just below my stomach.
No reason, no words, no explanation.
Silence.
"Do not look for me"
Silence, silence
"Don't try to fool me"
Silence, silence, silence.
"Why can't you accept that i could've just been wrong?"
...
..
.
After the moment i woke up laying in that bed, close to him, i was almost scared to find his sight on me.
Still there. There again.
And of all the kisses i lost track of i can't forget the first. And for the rest, better than kisses, i can't forget the words.
It's almost like i was so superficial not to care about every single little piece of time, but just the strongest ones, the slug in the guts.
Nothing more. Nevermore.
And now we're approching the evening of a saturday, the last saturday of august.
I haven't seen him since the morning he left, since the moment we briefly kisses and i closed the door even before seeing him taking the elevator and going away.
I was done of the night in a way. Not done with him. Never.
And yet I had to deal with the fact that it was nevermore. Just like pumpkins, the morning came and we turned back.
But for the first time in my life, ever, I wasn't just accepting it. For the first time ever I didn't deal with him just the way you do in this situations.
In every other moment of my life, with any other person, i would've just understood, and put barriers of time and space to just forget. And what was to be forgotten anyway? A week of dating and 36 hours of kissing? 36 and a half... almost 37. Not in a row, but from the first to the last one, without even knowing it would been so.
But this time...
This time i reacted not taking for granted what anyone else but me decided of something i was involved into as well.
This time for the first time I didn't just hit the road, telling myself stories about my highness and their mediocrity to make myself up, mend my ego, forgetting about the heart.
This time, i really honestly voted myself to being... a Claire.
A woman who make a man fall, make a man runaway, and is still able to have enough self-confidence to stick around after he left her, for untold reasons in an untold manner.
Yes, because after looking for me every moment he could for the whole week, after telling me the most flirty things about "the girl he adored", after showing me his world and squeezing me into his arms stopping untold words directly into my mouth with his by a river, after being amazed by my passion, after he couldn't wait an hour more to see me again, after telling me he could've been so crazy to wait a year for me to come back and stay with him, after watching me sleeping and wanting me more the air he was breathing heavily...
After all of this one expects the first moment of a springing realationship to carry a sweetness almost unbearable.
Shouting it all out hurt me so bad like a hand grasping and torching me inside just below my stomach.
No reason, no words, no explanation.
Silence.
"Do not look for me"
Silence, silence
"Don't try to fool me"
Silence, silence, silence.
"Why can't you accept that i could've just been wrong?"
...
..
.