Sometimes you are caught in such a relationship that you cannot love or leave. In fact, you are bound to a blind log… Your partner of your most beautiful years, your bitter sweet memories; The cause of internal conflicts, the inspiration of your writings, is the subject of conversations. Your tears are in your subconscious, in your laughter. A shelter where you hide when you are scared, a flag you kiss when you rejoice. Unlimited and endless; “There is to die, no return” tour.
But you’ll know the day comes; that something is bleeding inside. The secret daggers of passionate lovers begin to shine. You start to criticize from here and here: “If it looks like this, if it doesn’t say it, it changes a bit or as it used to be…” You start to show others as an example, “Look how they live”. You will look for ways to be free while also living together. Your love is no longer blind, you want to fix it sees the wrong. “Was it like that before…” opened the door of criticism in the conversation began; As it opens, repressed objections rise from the subconscious…
You know it can’t last. You want it changed. He tired of your lovelessness… He betrays treason. treachery in passionate relationships is death. “Love like this or leave,” he booms … Once a dream that glows the twilight darkness with a laugh, suddenly turns into a nightmare… Closes the hearts of the heart, prohibits itself… Hoyrattir, does not look at your face… Poison flows language, convicts, offenses, judgments. Seals, your lips, tears, writes, erases you from the book… “It was for good, all because I love you…” say, you can not listen.
You know you won’t live if you leave, but you can’t love it like that. Your pen was broken from betrayal; love, you leave… “Since then…” age begins after him… Since you are so passionate, he always chose others, since he did not know your worth, then “sin has gone from you”. You try to get away with this unrequited love by fucking. The age of love immigration begins so…
You will anchor in the ports you will be free for a while Ne However, you cannot forget, you will watch away from afar… It has been filled with a lot of ominous, wolf bird feed. Crazy bloody, bloody hand, those who died for the sake, those who ride on his back wrapped around him… He would be proud of them, nourish his bosom, he will carve his eyes… He loves those who shed blood, more than those who shed roses… “What me… his choice” you should try to wipe your shoulders for a while…
But then… suddenly a song played in our ears or a smell coming from the doorway, it reminds him again… In wild hands, in other arms you cry about him. You miss the smell; singing the song, listening to the song, eating food, drinking a glass of raki from his hand… You scream poems starved from the edge of the opposite river, so that the waters whisper to your ears… Turn and shout “I still love you” he passes through you… You can not turn. Unable to connect, you get closer and closer. You realize that this is a helpless love, what happens with it, without it… Both the desire to die in your arms, to be buried in your arms, and the suspicion of “What will happen in the end”…
You can’t love like this, you can’t leave.
You crawl…
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