A Breath And A Scream

Rough night, last night... night of excess, as drinks followed one upon other, like waves in their natural routine... the purpose was different though, less reflected, maybe because my head was too full, perhaps it was not full but just occupied, selfishly, deeply. Cigarettes flew and kicked my lungs, slow motion suicide, mind healers, stupid jokes and a rush through the spine. I felt like melting inside since the night before, a dead man walking, once again I felt it to the bone. Imminent flight booking, filled notion of respect and head thinking, a heart kept in the shade of my chest. From the beggining I just knew several things, one of them was that it wouldn't be as any other senseless spit and heat exchange, not with us, not like the preconseption of life itself... drinking milk, water, blindfolds upon an hangover of alchool, ansiety, broken wings, my huge ones... too good to be trully realized from the first start, the first kiss, the first out of time confidence. Sweetness to it's purest state, in the leaves of a flower you kept a smile, with such a glow, brightness. I saw happiness. I recognized the child in you, the embaraced reddish face for such a detail, with such importance though... I saw you needed more. The only thing I know about you and I is that I gave you a glimpse of myself, I told you what it matters to me... and you listened. What fucks me up is that I feel you got it, such an unusual thing to be done. Miles flirt with miles, they multiply. You get colder, colder, colder. Connection of freakish parts, so... perfectly. What really matters? An advance plan about a perfect life with no essence. I don't know what love is. I just guess that some feelings, those special ones, made of chills, those weird ones in the back of your neck, the breath takers, out there, that deserve to be planted, desired during growth, shared above it all. With charm comes a big responsability, it consumes you, abstracted to the fact of being in love, taking steps bigger than your legs, making awesome plans when at the moment of truth it's just different. I'll keep you with me, and I will see you in the end of an exhausting night of work, or sitting at the edge of a counter. Probably you'll cross your sight with mine on a street, somewhere, somehow... I will, someday*
"You make me feel like a girl... I'm used to have to be a woman".