transitions are endless
one cannot stop time from ticking
who knew that my heart would be in paris
despair in transatlanticism*
vivid dreams accompanied by such a state of desire
the need of physical intimacy,
the burden of melancholy and hope
in ultimate disappointment, it lies…
intertwined between the truth and the lies,
the thin line that separates the wants and the haves
roaming endlessly inside an empty abyss
an overcome, a rule, an oppression … must they become suppressed emotions
letters pouring out of your mind
‘i’m leaving to martinique, ma vénérer awaits for me’
making a small joke, trying to ease the cold, lifeless, tragic death…
this long distance love affair has been put to an end.
Loren writes 