A dream. A romance. A love. In Words.
I think you prefer when the world "together" means not "a million," but just two.
I was one of the insatiables. The ones you'd always find sitting closest to the screen. Why do we sit so close? Maybe it was because we wanted to receive the images first. When they were still new, still fresh. Before they cleared the hurdles of the rows behind us. Before they'd been relayed back from row to row, spectator to spectator; until worn out, secondhand, the size of a postage stamp, it returned to the projectionist's cabin. Maybe, too, the screen was really a screen. It screened us... from the world.
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Walking through darkness
into little lights in the distance.
Fireflies, moonlight and twinkling stars.
My night-dimmed eyes wide open
I smell the damp meadow below me.
Dark grass winds around my dew-wet feet.
The intense scent of nature streaming into my nose
I take his cold hand to show him the night.
Magical, calm, quiet and a bit exciting.
I let myself go, loose myself, forget where I come from
and why I came here and with whom.
I. Let. Him. Kiss. Me.
There is this feeling that will always remain.
And although it was untrue and deceiving
I will never forget.
And the pain ... is everywhere.
The grief ... is everywhere.
The sorrow ... is everywhere.
The sadness ... is everywhere.
And though it is all resembling,
it also differs in a very strange way.
And only the one, who feels it, can understand.