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Writer's pictureG&Silk

OPEN LETTER TO LOVE

Dear love, you and I have a pending conversation.


Sorry it has been so long since the last time we talked.


We met almost 50 years ago, when you appeared in the space between my grandmother and me, within that hug full of tenderness and comfort.


Since then, I wanted to carry you in a pocket, wherever I went, but you seemed not wanting to be with me.


So I went on a quest, hoping that you would appear again in that space between people, between what we show and what we are.

But you were always a mirage, a projection of what I expected you to be.


The exaltation of believing I had found you again, carried me out of a world, to which I could not adapt.


Only the anesthetizing energy of that intoxication, made my existence bearable.


But you always disappeared and life became a litany of failures again.


My greatest desire was to exist in the heart of another person. Placing there, as in a showcase everything that makes me who I am. My anecdotes, my experiences, my humor, my failures ...


To put everything well safe, in the heart of another being, that would make me last forever, when I wouldn’t be here.


Death did not scare me, when I heard by my side, that other heart, in which I lived.


That was what I wanted, to get out of myself and live into someone else. As if nothing about me had value if it wasn't shared. Maybe, that's why I not only wanted to be loved, I wanted to be understood. To such an extent, that they could speak on my behalf. My voice had to be heard through others, because I couldn't validate myself.


Dear love, you have given me so many moments of happiness, you have made me feel so alive.

Those fleeting moments of union and absolute complicity, of feeling your presence with the fullness of a sunrise and an opera aria.


But you have to understand, that I got tired of the fleeting, the uncertainty and the impermanence.


That is why you have not heard from me. I used to talk to you every day when my hibiscus bloomed or I saw the moon through my window.

I composed songs for you and perfumed myself with you.

But 50 years later, feeling my grandmother's medal on my chest, I finally see that you have lived in my heart all these years, you have never gone far.


You've just been asleep.


And now, I sing again under the full moon and go to sleep smiling.


Smiling at you, at love.


I never knew how to appreciate that I always had you.


Because knowing how to embrace my past, my epic gaffes, and my love failures, all that is love.

And finally, I do not need to live in the heart of another person, because I live in you, in love.




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