Echo

If we continue to talk about it now, which I believe is important for you to do so because you ask me this here and now and not somewhere more appropriate, I am afraid that the cynicism that I feel in your voice will stay there. I won’t be able to do any differently- I thought. I just can’t say it.

What if the fear takes us away and drifts us apart? Emotions are strong, but do we know them? Do we lack the courage to understand them better? I guess that the stronger the emotion the easier it sticks up all the sweetness around itself in order to stay hidden and safe. Not even a drop of it comes to your throat and your voice stays mute.

I keep it to myself. Again. I am afraid that the feeling will lose its purity on its way to you if I let it ride on words. Once spoken out loud, they usually don’t fit very well and there is no way back. It never worked for me to go back, not even in my dreams.

If only I could strike them out with a brush. Or with my own fingers. To paint them. If only I could put them in colors, through the rhythm and a shadow to reattach the scattered. To get back that sense of light, warmth, the closeness of unknown and distant, the thing that scares you to run away even though you want to keep up. To open a reminder and invite you to go on with me.