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The Longing for Two Lonely Reunion

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Avatar for jemimcollin
Written by
1 month ago
Topics: Story, Life, Love, Loneliness, Longing, ...

There is only one… It had accumulated. He looked full. He noticed the woman. More importantly, the huge void next to him and the deep brown in his beautiful eyes.

She wanted to sit next to him. He thought back. He's back, he's leaving. His mind is in the space there, his mind is on the woman. A marching band is coming. It's blocking the way. He's back. He shyly walked over to the woman. He sat.

Two alone. They are very big. by the heart. But it's empty. It makes dust fly. It has a big wind. Unlimited after. Angels between heaven and earth. There are many broken hearts. As for deserts.

Two alone, like water. They reveal themselves at a glance. They cannot be hidden. Even at the masquerade they are pointed at. The woman is like a sea. The woman had returned from a long journey. Life is full of impassable roads. At some point you end. You don't have any strength. You leave the way. Maybe you're starting to go in the opposite direction.

No one knows the end of the road that started. The woman turned, perhaps rolled from somewhere. He was in a tough spot, or he didn't have a chance. She abandoned her dreams. Who knows?

The woman was there in all her breadth and beauty. It's almost like a ship, like a transatlantic. Yes, she was too beautiful to be stared at, even blindingly beautiful.

The man had turned, examine it from somewhere, and turn around. From a very difficult place. It was as if he was fighting against the mountains. His mouth tasted like cloves. He had dead stars in his pocket.

Who knew you didn't carry marijuana in your pocket? Who knows you didn't carry a farewell letter? Who? Perhaps it had rolled from the flowering top of a dark pain. Tired of collecting them. Wilted from putting them in vases, watering them. Plum juice. And apple pie... (what is life but these two?)

He knew how to survive, holding on to this pain. Now in the raging waters of the cold void.

Her rivers are full. His eyes are shining with longing for the sea. Fragile and shy as the sea. She is waiting. Who knows what? Maybe she had a fat husband, a man who smelled of sheep, smelled of hate, smelled of malice... She was fed up with him and everything. She was fed up. Because he was the dog of his life.

It was a dream to be here now.

There were children playing on the walkway, there were cheerful people. Maybe dead kids. They were dead when they were born. Or they were not left in the courtyard of the mosque and were strangled to death by a mother or a lover. A traffic accident maybe. There were children. No one would hurt them. Nothing could stop them. Nothing could hit them. They existed, but they were invisible, invincible, undead.

They were warm, smiling, happy ghosts.

The woman was young, beautiful, slender. His soul can dance madly. His silence is like death. Who can guess, who knows? Maybe he's pouring concrete on his mind. He's tired of fighting. His heart is far behind. So much so that he found a way out in the back, left it. April is the month, in bunches. April can live without a heart.

The woman looks like candy, her thoughts as blonde as a good movie. It was sunny like crazy. This hasn't been seen in years. Human relations leave honey. Wasn't the winter bad? Weren't people ruined by snow? The man had come back from somewhere. It was like a rock. His eyes were black. He was pessimistic, poisonous. He was looking for a place to sit, his feet were tired. He had run for years on the asphalt of a desire. It was a unique desire. But… after a certain time all desire ends. Who knows, the band wasn't a band. Maybe it was a flock of sheep or a flock of women.

The woman was perhaps on a road of no return. In the beginning it seemed endless. But… Maybe he was living on the ice and there would be a huge crack in the ice. He had to make a decision. He was waiting for a sign from God.

Maybe the woman was carrying a gun in her purse. She was going to kill someone in an hour. Someone who ruined your life. A woman or a man. Gathering strength… Maybe the woman lived in the apartment at the back. She had just married the rich man. Just for his money. She was thinking of killing him. This guy doesn't look bad. It was a red bench. It used to be timber. Before that it was a tree. He was killed by a young man's axe. The man's wife was pregnant. Maybe he had a blind father. A proud father. Who always says God. If you don't put food in front of him, he won't say he's hungry. He sees himself as a burden. He does not revolt.

Perhaps the woman had returned from her childhood. His eyes were soft, unsmiling, green. He can still be content with a wave of heat, smile for the world and the world that has left its million doors open; but if the time comes. Even fearlessly. It is ready to go out with its teeth, nails and rivers wherever it is the highest place to climb. Known soul. It's like a tiger.

It was a red bench. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was yellow. He was alone in the forest. That's why it was cut. He was not dead. It had been suffocating for years. It had a sprout. Maybe the woman had come back from a disloyal man. It hasn't been easy. Life won't be easy. Years, seasons, nights, days… The man was like a mountain. It was neither big nor thin. A tired child in his eyes. Waving and waving and disappearing. The man's heart snaps fingers. It calls for something lost. The woman was looking at the sea.

The sea was clean. It was azure. Maybe it was full of plastic bottles. It was dirty. It was very dirty. Her eyes were clear. Eyes like death. He was looking at the boats. There were five boats. There were five couples in five boats. Five happy couples. Maybe five engaged couples. The sea was blue. He was painting his lips. He was alive… The woman had come headlong from somewhere. From the relentless gaze of a red question. Maybe from the snake arms of a pink love.

She had returned. It was extinguished. She was praying that he survived. He wouldn't do it again. Never ever. She was self-sufficient. She would not love any man. The real love begins with the person himself. It would have been without the other.

The man was back from somewhere. He was afraid. He was dying in his thoughts. Then he would really die. But suddenly. In a crowd or in the dark. Death can happen at any time. Maybe there was a bullet behind it. The pursuit will end in blood somewhere. Maybe he got a teenage girl pregnant. She had deceived him. She had used it. It was ruined. He had it shattered.

The man had turned away from somewhere. Persistence in certain things kills a man. You need to know the limits. You have to live in moderation. even in our dreams. Maybe he was looking for unlimited love. Love no matter what. No matter how it ends. He believed that he was created for love. Maybe he left a poem, a story, a flower unfinished.

He was afraid to continue. One wrong move could create a terrifying creature. Then this giant creature would not leave him alone. Who is my father, what am I? Perhaps the man was afraid of women. He was 40 years old. He was an officer. All his life he had lived in a slumber. Even his body was being sucked into it. It had vanished by towing. It was like a shadow.

No woman would know him. This man was very unhappy. He wanted to take a step now. He wanted to live outside. Maybe this woman was his last chance. It was destiny. The woman was perhaps thirty-five years old. He was a banker. Maybe his feet were prosthetic and the idiot didn't notice. For example, her hair was a wig. For example, his soul is a wig. Her heart is wig too. Everything… The stupid man doesn't understand. The woman is looking thinly.

The man is staring at him, too, squinting. But they don't show each other. They shudder to hear each other's mysterious warmth.

Perhaps the man had left unfinished all the work he had begun in his life. Maybe that was it. His loves, works, words... Maybe he won't stand behind anything. Strange thing. It looks strong but it's not. The man appears but is not. Wow trickster! Perhaps the woman was mute. His father had cut his tongue. Because he was talking to the wrong person… The man was perhaps born deaf…

The woman may stutter. So afraid to say hello. Maybe he lost half of it. Ayran is in a volunteer blonde woman. A woman with rebellious eyes and an erotic voice…

Perhaps the man had lost his son. He hated her. Maybe it caused the death of his soul mate.

The sun receded a little. A cool wind began to blow. It was a very young wind. Her breasts were just starting to grow. He was very envied among his peers. He opens his whole soul, thread becomes thread. It's scattering crazy crazy. Like a woman and like a man. The band was roaring. The woman is staring at him, out of the corner of her eye. The man murmurs, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

Band: Castara castara cas. Casrata castara cas. A beautiful girl in the front. He waves the staff. The girls are red, the boys are white, the band's. A fat boy plays the drums in the background. Fat kids always play the drums. They're whistling. High school teenagers are getting ready for the holiday. A lost boy was standing before them. Five stones were playing. They didn't see. The man looked at the woman. He lit a cigarette. He looked across. Then the woman looked at the man. He tossed his hair back.

The most certain was this: The man was as lonely as the clouds. The woman was more alone. As far as the lands.

The most certain was this: they were right, but they did not see it. But they both wanted to sit side by side on that bench forever.

The boy was holding a daisy in his hand, saying: He loves, does not love, loves, does not love…

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Avatar for jemimcollin
Written by
1 month ago
Topics: Story, Life, Love, Loneliness, Longing, ...
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