I dissolved in the absence of your universe, to the point where I was unable to be reborn. I fell madly in love with the tiny dreams that dimly faded within me, while you were next to me.
I don't know how many books I've started and left half-finished throughout this entire story. The flame of suffering is lit in the evenings, when the candle of the sky is the only one that illuminates me, and I, naked under its icy warmth, feel that I can unfold the pages of my soul; those pages that you were never able to read.
Sometimes I think that perhaps their language was incomprehensible, that perhaps it wasn't your fault. But love is like Ariana's thread; it always pulls you out of the mirages of the captive labyrinths of ecstasy.
As an unintentional tear warms my cheeks, all the confusions of spiritual sensitivity freeze within me, and I feel incapable of doing anything. Or maybe I don't want to do anything. I don't know which to trust more.
But what importance does such a small, meaningless thing hold? After all, what weight do my tears have? What meaning do my confusions have, when inside I am burning from the unsaid?
But maybe this is my answer.
Maybe this is the only way to love you until the end...
- Written for Anabel by an anonymous woman, for the “Untold Stories” column – the haven where we recount those moments when the heart wants to speak, whether about the good or the difficult, about the deepest feelings that we don't want to keep inside. If you too would like to share your story, write to us at [email protected] .
