There was no kowtowing, nor even a proper farewell. Didn’t exist any form or act of affection, no stroking, not even a look. The kiss flew alone in the wind without any cheek to land on and no destiny perpetuated an omen of our propinquity, our invisible bond, as invisible as your words. I won’t forget, as I was looking to Pallas, and remembering my tongue uncontrollably spilling verses, verses to you, for you, that night:
Your limbs were doing fencing, and no manner to be dancing,
As you were parsing with your physical phrasing, crazy,
I could not cope with your dazzling movements, sparkling greatly,
Ah, certainly, with the eyes glaring, and no one caring,
Oh, dearly, eerily, you, me, carring and my heart craving,
The moon was settling and our connection greater getting…
But Pallas never answered my pleas, nor reacted to my confessions; so I sat down and stopped thinking, and stopped stopping at the same moment, nevermore. Furthermore the anxiety to the reality was unavailing any senseless reason to reasoning; because reasons for these reasons are not enough to explain any arguments I may have with myself and my own dramas. I wanted to uproot my memories of you from my soul. Deracinate them completely. As pain became painless as intensity increased and made the nerves numb and nerveless. Love is lacerating and healing; a powerful weapon with double edge. Makes you try everything as you only try for one thing. Love remains as unexplained as death might be, and it might move more passions and fears even. Love inserts people inside a fictional movie, were improvised scripts occur and three or four reels might finish fully used. Love is a metaphorized reel, personified with eloquence, melancholy and poignancy, some bittersweet flavour and crazyness in the nooks.