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The closer I get, the more I feared Your foreignness

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Written by   43
1 week ago

It wasn't the first day I saw you, the day I met you. You were before and long ago. That day was the day you saw the way you took shape. You did not realize that I was thrilled to find that I was lost. Even after years of dedicating holiness to your place. Although I still cannot afford to bear the frustration of not being noticed. You can not know!

You made me go through without looking back. I wonder how many times my eyes got stuck when I turned and looked once more. Even though I know he won't look, he still has hope and expectations. Your absence became mingled with my absence. Your existence is endowed with my longings, entangled in my pleasant dreams.

You are not here! - Poetry

I guess silence is my destiny

Look, my life is out of date without you

He was a living creature addressed to those who were

Your life is running out, wake up, O human!

You were not there, yesterday and today.

I'm alone and time passes without you.

Nobody can see how it is like time traveling.

How quietly the roads walk, without looking back.

Am I tired, or is it time?

Or are they inexhaustible roads?

I get tired, I crouch in a corner all the time.

Roads get tired, it seems like it ends up without you.

What about time?

What do you think, when time gets tired, does it sit at a bend,

Does it get squeezed into a nook corner.

I am stuck in a corner, with the complacency of fatigue.

It's like I'm stuck between the gears of a wheel.

Is it my fate, to be without you.

Is it my fate, to be surrounded by nightmares.

Is it my destiny? To live without any intervention.

Is it the last moment of my life that must be exhausted without you?

My only being without you is the way I go

Longing has found its time to melt

I can't reach my rose, my gasoline is faded

Your life is running out, wake up, O human!

I saw it when I thought I was getting too close, how far it was, its inaccessibility. Your shadows roamed my senses even when you were by my side. Although I took the guidance of all the means of access I knew, with pleading eyes, the roads leading to you hid themselves in a place I did not know beyond my senses and touches. I have announced to all living and inanimate beings my cries and fires, I could not make you hear my sighs, look at me again, but in vain .. I experienced the shyness of drawing you in me, with the smell of my untouched poems by rolling reproach.

How could I understand that there is a world that has not yet been demarcated, with these shallow perceptions. I do not know how many thousand times I have tried to understand you, your world, which started with hope and ended in despair. With my own questions and answers. I kept looking for a light to come from you - wherever you left a mark - assuming it would be. I tried to enter your world without knowing you, wondering if I didn't know the way.

From time to time I was encouraged and extended my hands to reach out, my hands remained empty with your departures. My hands could not stand my hands, ran away, embarrassed, hid in other spaces, hoping to perish. The roads you traveled, the ones you touched, everything that happened from you became close without you realizing it. As I got closer, I was afraid of the strangeness of intimacy with the sails opening to the dreams of losing.

I wanted to feel the poetry of his smile in his gaze, even though I could not see his staring eyes. I tried to draw the picture of those looks, I wanted to hold on to the moment, yesterday and tomorrow in order to perpetuate - to catch the timelessness - knowing that I cannot hold on. I made an intention reader to express your thoughts. I have always tried to be friends with hope, turning my back on the ‘despair that often knocks on my door. I know you are in my hopes even though you may be a little deeper but you are there.

I asked everything about love for written-unwritten poems, novels, I kept asking why. They said that there was no answer to be given - each letter written with heartache - through the tired old pages. They whispered from the depths of the past that patience is the companion of the soul, that I have to hold on to it. I hold on to the patience not to lose my way that I could not find.

I call out from very close to make my voice heard from far away. I realized that I was memorizing the color of your voice, I read the words love from your voice. It didn't happen. I realized that I was in love with the source of the sound, not the sound. My voice was muted.

Look, I'm there. Right there. Do you feel?

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Written by   43
1 week ago
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Affection never let us go in grief. Appreciated writing.!

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1 week ago

Writing is good. Thanks

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1 week ago