Just came back from rehearsing and I feel very relaxed and still with energy. My body is smooth and my mind, satisfied.
I'm watching the rose decay in its bottle, slowly, fading, letting the last sparks of life fly away from her. She lasted for almost twelve days; quite a long life for a flower. The first petal has just fallen.
She has officially started to die. A beautiful death. What else could there be for a rose?
I wonder if love could die the same way. Elegantly, like a rose. Holding its head up to the sky until there's no force left in it to keep it in one piece. First losing its freshness, its bright color; then slightly starting to faint, looking down instead of up. And, finally, losing every single petal, every memory, every hope, until there's nothing left but a dry, pale core filled with little pistils all crushed and rotten. Just like aborted dreams.
Hey, wait.
After all, a rose's death is not that beautiful... what else could there be for love?
I'm watching the rose decay in its bottle, slowly, fading, letting the last sparks of life fly away from her. She lasted for almost twelve days; quite a long life for a flower. The first petal has just fallen.
She has officially started to die. A beautiful death. What else could there be for a rose?
I wonder if love could die the same way. Elegantly, like a rose. Holding its head up to the sky until there's no force left in it to keep it in one piece. First losing its freshness, its bright color; then slightly starting to faint, looking down instead of up. And, finally, losing every single petal, every memory, every hope, until there's nothing left but a dry, pale core filled with little pistils all crushed and rotten. Just like aborted dreams.
Hey, wait.
After all, a rose's death is not that beautiful... what else could there be for love?
1 comentario:
do you really think that Love dies? what a poetic thing you wrote but I still don't believe that love dies. Love is a feeling or love is a personal decision?
If love would die, i'd rather think of that as a cigarette, someone else smokes your soul for a mere instant satisfaction and then it gets discarded that easy.
That is not so lovely anyway.
Kisses
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