Christopher,
Your pretty words have me bound by their sensual embrace.
If you were a beast, I would have been the hunted but you are human, and with care you plunge your words into my heart and fill me with a passion that makes turbulent the otherwise, calm waters of my life.
How you torture my resistance!
And my flesh!
Go away before
you hold my hands and
your lips touch my face.
This love will bring tears to Amadeus’ eyes.
And my guilty soul would have to die.
Viola.
So I have you in front of my eyes; now
its just a matter of distance
before you will be in my arms.
It is as though the whole universe
has conspired to give you to me
as a gift I needed
as much as my life needed the gift of breath.
What a blessed day it was
that brought us on the same path!
There! I see you smile…
Oh that one time when you kissed my lips,
for a long, long time…
My life’s dream came true
of surrendering my heart to someone special
who’d kiss me with a passion,
I didn’t know.
Oh that one time when you kissed my lips!
You stole my breath,
my voice,
the strength of my skin
and my heart beats.
Just one french kiss
in the desert sand
and I’ve remained yours
since.
My flesh burns for you and in my eyes
there is only a desire to hold you.
My soul is a flame when you look at me
with your sexy, straight forward, teasing eyes.
Come to me, let me burn myself into you.
For you are all I need to feel alive.
Understand that until now
I have not,
but I have realized.
I really need you.
I need to touch you.
Hard it is to look at you
all day long and not
imagine what my skin would feel like
if you touched me.
For it is a dream to just imagine your large hands
wrapped around me,
caressing me.
I’d like to bask in the heat of your body
when I’m cold.
I’d love to feel your lips on mine.
Sometimes I sigh sadly, in wonder and in pity
upon you
and me
for I can feel your velvet gaze upon me when
you think I’m not looking;
for you’ll never know how much I want to feel alive,
I shall never tell.
For my tongue is cut.
“This is life,” she said.
“Man makes his own heaven
and lives in his own hell.
Some people pray and die a thousand deaths
for a moment of life,
and the others cry through life
like the living dead.
When one lives, he must live and
give all he can, for when one dies
there is no wrong or right
or black or white -
or any partial judgement
of the dissolving sand.”
The eagle flew toward me at
the same pace, the man travelled
toward my city -
with a tall hat, and a book
in his hand -
oblivious of all but himself.
The eagle in the wind,
acquainted with my thoughts
was a more compassionate
companion -
than any I’d ever had.
He carried a message in his beak,
“These are all widows dreams,
everything is lies.
Look twice.”
Beloved Viola,
I see you want me to move away from your life. But I cannot. Your love has me bound by spirit. You have not given me the right to hold your hands through life, let me love you from afar.
I wish I could hold you just once. I wish I could get lost in your embrace. But I cannot. It would destroy you. And I only want you to recieve happiness.
Don’t take your memories from me. Don’t take away my dreams.
Christopher
Christopher,
All night, after the evening our eyes met at the playground, your enthralling presence in my dreams challanged my will and made prominent my only sacrifice.
It is not your earthly beauty that draws me to you. It is the patient smile. The effortless silence. The encouraging words that led me to discover and explore answers I may not know today, but will surely have – tomorrow.
Our discussions. Our warm and friendly debates. Your understanding of my soul and every action that proved it.
How I long to belong with you – with whom I feel one!
But I will never! For Amadeus cannot know the loss of love.
Viola.
Darling Viola,
Everytime I find you in front of me, you’re an arms distance away. How I long to conquer this distance, that so separates us. I saw you at the ball, and once at the playground as you watched your nephews play. I believe with all my heart, you saw me too.
And then you turned away. But not before I saw what rested in your eyes. The madness of your love. The senselessness of every sacrifice.
I understand you are bound by chains. I am not.
And all my life I will love you.
Your Beloved,
Christopher.
One day, I wish to write the story of a child and her innocent world.
One day, I wish to muster up the courage to write of her betrayal by her own blood.
One day, I wish to write of all the lies that were told to her and
the gifts she was promised
for half an hour of her time
by mutual consent.
One day, I wish to write of the pain and the torture and her screams that still echo in my ears.
The person I speak of is myself.
The little girl inside me died long ago.
As did the purity she was born with.
But her screams still echo in my ears.
One day, I wish to write of the merciless manner women of my blood led me to the woman’s home.
Mercilessly, they watched me being tortured.
They heard my cries but the world was more important.
I still hear the blood curdling screams of the little girl.
She is in every nightmare.
And in every moment, I should have been cherishing.
One day, I shall write.
After combating
my fear of coming out in the open.
Facing ridicule.
Doubting my idea of if what I wish to do is right.
One day, I shall help those who wish to be helped.
But as of today, I am a strong woman.
Strong enough, so that -
I can live within the society without allowing it to be the decision maker of my child’s fate.
I live as a Woman ought to live.
Believer of God and Humanity.
Strong.
Fierce in the Protection of the life of her own and of those of other Women.
Capable of Rationale in the Anarchist Society we Live in.
Loving.
Just.
Nurturing.
Sympathetic.
As God has meant her to be.
So that no blood of mine need ever write something like this.
I have no complaints against my blood.
Just that, they didn’t find it in them to understand reason or be brave and take a stand.
And none of these qualities helped in saving me.
