English Version
gothique et romantique

Love letter

Publié le 24 Mai 2013

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Why believe you?  Why accept your reality? Distorted. By all your nauseas. Spitting on the world. With your eyes rivetted on a vague future. Your hatred which thunders. With deepest of you torn by your cries of insane. Died of pain. Not to have known to acknowledge its love. Forgetting its heart. By bravado, incapacity to put itself at knees. Too much stupid not to transform its pride into ploughing. And, which swears, too late, to want to return at the first evening. Why believe it? He, which taught me despair. Me, which expected the hope. My eyes, my body, folded to enter its world. With all its meanders. Its whims. Its delights. Loan with tending. My lips with the wine of its insanity. Forgetting my heart. By passion. Starting the way of the love. Without fear. On the knees. Despite Everything stones. That it had just sown. By pride, too attached to satisfy its defects. I understood it too late. When my sleep was made nightmare. Going up on the scaffold of the sacrifice. Constrained of drinking the wine of its poison. Penetrating in my veins, printing my existence of this hunger. Of him. Each morning. Each day until the end of the night. Bursting. Licking the memory of our memories in search of what we had been. Unreasoned. Tortured. I cannot separate some. To have to like it too much. I cannot keep it. To have blamed it too much. Why believe you?  Why accept your reality? Distorted. By all your nauseas. I do not stop asking it to me. I am not able to leave you. Bewitched. Thinking of this first dance. Who put to us in fright. This memory haunts me. Try me. I do not sometimes happen at me to detach some. It burns me. Turn me into ridiculous. I make very not to forget it. Remembering each note of the piano carrying us. You. Against me. Me. Against you. Unconstrained, nor law. Just linked by the faith. To believe in us. We were wolves. Give. With the idea to finish on a cross. Contaminated by the venom of the love. For always. I awaited it from you. I wanted this extreme. That you like me.

le sang de la nuit, la naissance de l'ange, decouvrez le dernier roman de steffan urell

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