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Should I go back to that embrace and coldness that once pervaded me, engulfing the corners of my mind and of my broken heart?  I miss that imprisoning embrace of yours, though I dread your encounter  for I might fall in love with you again.  Yes, I might fall in love with our tears which flowed in torrents leaving me drained with bits of my heart burnt, broken and scattered as I lied in the bed of your torment. I left you despite your sadness, despite your loyalty of standing next to me in my darkest hours, despite of everything, for your thorns cut me so deep I could barely breathe, yet still I loved you, I still longed for you, to be with me, both of us, surrounded in our own darkness.  My moon wails, scattering the rain on me as I whisper your name... and you came, you kissed my tears and squeezed my heart as you sang your melancholy on me making reality and pain real for the suffering of the heart is more permanent and always present.  I miss you, I miss you...

  THE VOICE (of faith and evil) "I believe the world itself can blind you with its banal sweet-honey taste, making you forget who you truly are. It's so easy to fall for it without even realizing about it. Sometimes I so hate it!" Thought he while staring at the gloomy morning that somehow felt as if carrying a burden of pessimism on its shoulders.  "I'd say that this world itself makes your spirit bloom in its rightful and truthful nature" a faint voice whispered, hollowed and distant. "Besides, what would you be if it wasn't for this world that you somehow have conquered and shaped to your own convenience?. This world, as you put it, has not left you out, furthermore it has complied to your wishes and whims". The soft tone of the whispering voice added. "There you are wrong! We know perfectly well that I am what I am through my God-given free will and that it is through HIS help that I have lived and experienced things out of HIS mercy s...

  And I thought it would be the same. I thought it would all be just like before, but one matter is to lean on old memories in which everything was covered in tolerance, protection and joy and even a sense of unity, and another matter, utterly different, is to witness decay. Many years had passed, and in those old days the morning sun would cast its light through the windows as if it was announcing a jolly "good morning" and the birds would perch onto the mango tree right outside, all singing like a morning choir. The rattle in the spacious kitchen was certainly not noise, but a sound that would wake you up alongside the aroma of recently brewed coffee, and just the thought of waking up to that scene would make, even the laziest soul, wake up in a rush just to experience the events that would take place right outside the bedroom.   The kitchen was the heart of that house - just like many others, I'd presume - in which early morning visits would bring along a "good mo...

  Hold the time so it doesn't pass,  perhaps that way we can manage to understand who we are,  especially when we wake up under satin-made blankets,  and a ready-to-go me is no more available. It wouldn't matter how infatuated you are, in the end, they aren't coming back,  So is the end and birth of love, that mischievous thing  that sometimes we are slaves of, But don't you panic about it, even if you don't recognize it, Believe me when I say, it isn't worth it,  when it simply goes through life pecking at what it can and then we just away throw it.  See the sun over there, perhaps that's the only relief in life, What more is there to say when all around it is pervaded in lies, So don't try to convince otherwise, When you yourself have let me down, Countless times for the sake of your own crown.   Yes, we are slaves of love somehow, someway, Yet it can be smothered though not slayed, Since it seems endless And it energizes off even when it i...