A drop of blood falls from the sky. It grows delicately and slowly. A scarlet rose is being formed from the vital liquid. This is how everything gets shaped in my soul.
A drop of feelings falls from the ceiling of my heart. It grows ethereally and adagio forges in the shape of love.
The only thing that’s inexistent in my soul is time and movement – nothing dares to bulge, nothing dares to change. That doesn’t mean I don’t perform. I do, because there is will, there is need.
A drop of hate skims tardily the wall of my soul and rapidly grows sharper and sharper, covering the place. The edge of the knife is directed towards the core of my soul. The frail part of me is slowly dying. I am strong, though, strong to stop it if I wish to. But I don’t.
A drop of nothing falls loudly. The echo of it travels deep in my being. Nothing is being formed and it hurts me. I can feel the nothing but I can’t fight it. Can someone see my meaningless nothing? Can someone help me?
Silence. Did I win the war that never existed? Did my immaterial sword pierce my immaterial enemy? Why is it always so noisy inside myself? I can’t even hear what I’m thinking. Stop screaming, please, stop screaming. It’s so quiet when I’m not around, nay, dead soundless.
A drop of light falls – it doesn’t move. My core grows agitated as the light disappears and all it’s left behind is a mirror. Someone picks it up with a delicate swing of the wrist and directs it towards her face. How could I be so blind? Why couldn’t I hear the sound of her steps? She has always been there, my love, my blood, my life, my heartbeat, my drop, my nothing, and my light.
Admiring herself, the reflection of her cherubic face is being refracted on my soul walls. The icy, transparent knife blade melts in the touch of her white wings. I’m burning on the inside. My love for her can’t materialize but I feel it more than ever. If I could offer it on a spiritual tray, it would for sure be too heavy and too precious to risk taking it out unguarded. I would be left without anything. My nothing would come back and force me to perish. But my angel wouldn’t be selfish; she wouldn’t ask to give my life away. She hugs the frameless mirror close to her bare chest. Her palms and skin start bleeding sweet blood.
A drop of blood falls from the sky. I would never let my angel go. She chose to enter my lifeless chamber and now she’s chained to the nonphysical me. I embrace her close and wait till our end will find us both. The mirror is cold but my angel is warm.
A drop of snow falls and the tiny crystals are covering my angel’s wings. Have you ever seen something so beautiful? I melt in myself waiting for my love to do the same. Spring is when winter is. My angel is my devil and the immaterial me is the material me. My blood is nothing and my feelings are everything. My hate is the war and my light is the peace.
A drop of ink falls. With her last will, my angel writes “I love you.” on the unreal floor of my bottomless soul, her buoyant move of the hand leaving behind a vivid sound. Her arm drops to the ground in complete bluster.
I am happy and complete. Her delightful surrender enchanted me. Our immaterial souls are together, our hearts beat at the same time, our blood we share, and our mind is one. My angel is mine forever – my love, my blood, my life, my heartbeat, my drop, my nothing, and my light.
I love you, beautiful.
A drop of feelings falls from the ceiling of my heart. It grows ethereally and adagio forges in the shape of love.
The only thing that’s inexistent in my soul is time and movement – nothing dares to bulge, nothing dares to change. That doesn’t mean I don’t perform. I do, because there is will, there is need.
A drop of hate skims tardily the wall of my soul and rapidly grows sharper and sharper, covering the place. The edge of the knife is directed towards the core of my soul. The frail part of me is slowly dying. I am strong, though, strong to stop it if I wish to. But I don’t.
A drop of nothing falls loudly. The echo of it travels deep in my being. Nothing is being formed and it hurts me. I can feel the nothing but I can’t fight it. Can someone see my meaningless nothing? Can someone help me?
Silence. Did I win the war that never existed? Did my immaterial sword pierce my immaterial enemy? Why is it always so noisy inside myself? I can’t even hear what I’m thinking. Stop screaming, please, stop screaming. It’s so quiet when I’m not around, nay, dead soundless.
A drop of light falls – it doesn’t move. My core grows agitated as the light disappears and all it’s left behind is a mirror. Someone picks it up with a delicate swing of the wrist and directs it towards her face. How could I be so blind? Why couldn’t I hear the sound of her steps? She has always been there, my love, my blood, my life, my heartbeat, my drop, my nothing, and my light.
Admiring herself, the reflection of her cherubic face is being refracted on my soul walls. The icy, transparent knife blade melts in the touch of her white wings. I’m burning on the inside. My love for her can’t materialize but I feel it more than ever. If I could offer it on a spiritual tray, it would for sure be too heavy and too precious to risk taking it out unguarded. I would be left without anything. My nothing would come back and force me to perish. But my angel wouldn’t be selfish; she wouldn’t ask to give my life away. She hugs the frameless mirror close to her bare chest. Her palms and skin start bleeding sweet blood.
A drop of blood falls from the sky. I would never let my angel go. She chose to enter my lifeless chamber and now she’s chained to the nonphysical me. I embrace her close and wait till our end will find us both. The mirror is cold but my angel is warm.
A drop of snow falls and the tiny crystals are covering my angel’s wings. Have you ever seen something so beautiful? I melt in myself waiting for my love to do the same. Spring is when winter is. My angel is my devil and the immaterial me is the material me. My blood is nothing and my feelings are everything. My hate is the war and my light is the peace.
A drop of ink falls. With her last will, my angel writes “I love you.” on the unreal floor of my bottomless soul, her buoyant move of the hand leaving behind a vivid sound. Her arm drops to the ground in complete bluster.
I am happy and complete. Her delightful surrender enchanted me. Our immaterial souls are together, our hearts beat at the same time, our blood we share, and our mind is one. My angel is mine forever – my love, my blood, my life, my heartbeat, my drop, my nothing, and my light.
I love you, beautiful.
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