Thinking of you

Days were long and night were cold,

Hope was thin and darkness thick,

Loneliness behind the corner.

But she only thought of you.

Worried over your long absence,

Excited over a certain look you gave,

Concerned over the future,

She would only think of you.

Your smile brought the sunlight,

Your absence brought the storm.

Her eyes would call you day and night

And she only thought of you.

And you loved her, then you left her,

Then came back, then left again,

Every day a new surprise.

But she only thought of you.

And she loved you, and she scared you,

And she gave to you her all

Hoping to get you for herself

Because she only thought of you.

As her lips were turning silent

And her look was getting grey

She was wondering if she ever

Would only stop thinking of you.

Unlovable

Source

Love me when I feel there is nothing to be loved in me, when my face is ugly, body deformed, voice uncomprehensible and behaviour rude. 

Love me when I feel nobody else does it, when all the dark clouds crowd above my head and follow me everywhere, when even hope is black and far away.

Love me when I am unfriendly and sarcastic, when I try to spread pain around me so I am no longer different from the rest of them. 

Love me when I send you away, when my eyes tell you to go, even if my voice could never say it, when I lock myself deep and desperately need you to have a peak inside and save me, but I'm not saying it.

Love me when I trust you least and I pretend I could make it without you, when I use you as my punching bag just because you are the closest.

Love me when I feel I am slipping into the abyss but refuse to reach for your hand. Bombard me with love when I am wearing my armour and act defensively expecting ignorance.

Love me when I am unsure and aggressive for no reason, when I talk nonsense, make accusations and suppositions with no ground at all, when my logics seems berried in the ground with little chances of ever coming back.

Love me when I write and love me when I don't. Love me when I'm immature and irrational.

Love me when I desperately need a hug but I refuse to ask for it. And love me when I steal that hug without considering the consequences.

Love me when I am unlovable, and if I get no better, say it and show it. Because if you love me then, when I need it the most, I will eventually learn that I deserve it and little by little I will stop being unlovable ever again.

You can't kill the sun

 "You can't kill the sun" she said, her brown wet eyes stairing at him in dispair. "You can cover your skin and belongings to protect them for damage, as you well know how it can sometimes burn.

You can find ways to enjoy its gentle kiss on your face every day and benefit from its wormth and energy without focusing what damage it could cause.

Or you could lock inside and put down the blinders and pretend the sun is no longer there, but do not be naive, the sun will still shine out there, rising proudly every morning and setting satisfied in the evening, in the most incredible mix of orange and blue one could ever come to imagine.

There will be darker days when you will feel the taste of success thinking the sun is gone. But deep inside you'll know better…

Eventually due to the lack of light your skin will become transparent and the smile will fade away. You'll slowly forget the sweet taste of a sunny day and all will look like a dream or a movie, as your skin will be wet and cold and unresponsive.

The things around you, the ones you tried so hard to protect taking them away from the sun's path, will slowly lose their glow as there will be no power reflecting in them. They will learn to live without the sun and take you as their hero, for a while. They will be pale and sad and when old enough they will build dark houses with small windows covered by thick blinders. And one day the sun will kiss them too and that day you will fall from your hero throne.

Source

You can also choose to walk the world with a blindfold around your pretty eyes. But the sun will still be there burning your skin, trying hard to reflect in your eyes and warm your soul. The people around you will watch you with compassion and try to guide you from time to time. But there would never be any blue or orange in your life, just the sweet memory of the games they do every day on the sky when the time is right."


He looked her in the eyes with a half smile. And because there, in her eyes - the same eyes in the drawing, mixing some strange sadness, playfulness and mistery in a way he had never managed to completely understand - the sun was playing carelessly causing a random ray to reflect in his blue eyes, he decided to put down the blinders and go in his small dark corner to cry for a bit.