English Version
gothique et romantique

Four minutes zero two

Publié le 3 Avr 2014

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The sound of a piano, sad and dark notes running on the web melody. Drawn Up to equip the house with all your secrecies. Those that I imagine, which you will never deliver to me. I pass in insipid and gray shade in front of this door that it is impossible for me to push. I am erased without that not wearying me. Carried by the music of this piano on which you cheeks for me. In this waiting of you who will not break my faith. Run out the time of a vague hope. Also far that my chance will go. Four minutes zero two of happiness torn off with white and black from the piano. Each time repeats this slow rhythm, melancholic person and beautiful. Carrying the tears with the eyes. Manufacturing this other idea of the marvellous one.  Behind which you shelter protected by massive and luminous walls. I imagine big rooms, recesses. Where you protect yourself hiding your capricious desires. Beautiful and inaccessible, frail and sensitive. I draw you thus. That gives the impression to me that I understand you, that we could be friendly. There are so many things which could bring us closer. The fact sometimes of crossing. You, outgoing of these luxurious cars which take you along to walk you. Me passing, returning to work. It is little. But we could be happy. Four minutes zero two. Of music which sometimes escapes from your window. Sent to the sky or me perhaps? A exchanged furtive glance which I remember. Who retains me. Did I see your eyes, I do not know if you remember mine? Each evening per same hour, I pass and pass by again. Trusting randomly. In advance or too late. We will cross. We will hear. The sound of a piano, sad and dark notes running on the web melody. Drawn Up to equip the house with all your secrecies. Those that I imagine, which you will never deliver to me. That I could not ask you. There will be the softness of your hands. The hot breath of this divine wind. Cherishing my face, I close the eyes. Four minutes zero two. Of happiness to be happy. This evening, you took the time to look me before playing. Your fingers skim the keys while perhaps thinking of me. I dare to believe it, I want it, I have only you. In the vacuum, there are images, shades and then us two. Coiled in a recess of the large house. Where the lights do not shine more than thousand fires. Half-light where our passions are connected. At the borders of the insanity. I have only one dream for companion. And the sound. Of a piano which you cherish without hesitation. Causing so many storms in my heart in love. Who beats to the rhythm of your pulsations, time so four minute  zero two. I timed it. I wanted to engrave it. In my memory to know. A small crumb of hope. Connecting to me forever to you. Negligible and so long-lived that you sent until me.

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

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