amora ~

We have not always had this certainty, this pessimism that reassures the best among us.

There was a time when my friends laughed at me.

I was not the master of my words.

A certain indifference; I did not always know what I wanted to say, but most often, it was because I had nothing to say—the necessity of speaking and the desire not to be heard.

My life is hanging only by a thread.

There was a time when I seemed to understand nothing.

My chains floated on the water.

All my desires are born of my dreams.

And I have proven my love with words.

To what fantastic creatures have I entrusted myself, in what dolorous and ravishbeautiful has my imagination enclosed me?

I am sure of having been loved in the most mysterious of domains, my own.

The language of my love does not belong to human language; my body does not touch the flesh of my love.

My amor anticipation has always been constant and high enough so that nothing could attempt to convince me of error.