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Не е точно поезия, за което се извинявам предварително, но мисля, че това е най-подходящия клуб за него...
I had a dream last night. You were there. It was beautiful.
You know, just a few months ago I didn’t think I would ever be glad to meet someone in a dream… Actually, I didn’t believe I would ever be able to be glad of meeting someone again at all. Sure, I’d have my one night stands and all, but that would be more physical than anything else – no love, no emotion and certainly none of this feeling you get in your stomach when she walks into the room. I’d have none of that, I was sure. Not that I wouldn’t want to, mind you; I just wouldn’t be capable of it. Not after what I’ve been through. Not where I was at the time.
Last night we walked together on the shore and we held hands. It was beautiful.
When I’m in that mood I sit down and write. It’s easier to do than say things, especially when one’s not sure of the consequences of saying these things. The white page is comforting: it doesn’t argue, it doesn’t react, and it doesn’t laugh at you as people would (or could…) It just sits there, waiting, absorbing all you have to say. Foolish, right? I know, I’m a fool. I have been, all my life. Last time I wrote something was about five years ago… And, guess what, I was hurt again. Not as much as those other times though, I think I was getting used to it by that time.
Then we sat down and watched the sunset. It was beautiful.
They say everyone has their own soul mate. Frankly, I’ve always thought this to be a bit of an overstatement. I mean, seriously! What are the chances? Does that mean you have just one chance of happiness in your life? What if you miss this chance? What’s more, how do you even begin to know when you’ve found her? Sure, there are such things as common interests, finishing each other’s sentences, having common views on the world and so on, but can this be it? Isn’t it a bit prosaic? (I know, I said I’m a fool, and I stick by it.)
We talked and listened to the waves. It was beautiful.
I tend to overanalyze things lately. I probably shouldn’t, but I do. I guess I believe it helps me take the right decisions. (Then again, I said I’m a fool, didn’t I?) Or protects me from being hurt again. I am not so sure anymore. I just lie in bed at night and think. It calms me down, I guess. Possibly also helps me understand the world around me… Why do we do what we do? Why are we who we are? Why are we here? Why does all that matter?! Something’s missing. What could it be? The list goes on and on, this is just an illustration…
Then I walked you home and you gave me a kiss goodnight. It was beautiful because you were there.
I guess what I’m trying to say is: I believe again now. I believe in you. Be my comforting, yet arguing, reacting and even laughing white page. Let me write my story on you, the new one. The one in which there are no one night stands, only positive emotions and love. No wondering about soul mates, only the certainty of their existence found in you. No overanalyzing, I’m tired of that stuff. No more fools. Just that nice feeling when you enter the room… Be my friend, but be a whole lot more than that too. Be my world. Be my soul. Be me.
Be mine.
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A Dream
