Lighting a paper match on a marshmallow under water

You can do anything, except light a paper match on a marshmallow under water.

I thought this was the exact summary of what I wasn't able to do as if there is a will, there is a way.
But let's face it, my love story proves me wrong.

You cannot experience the most marvelous Love story if the other one isn't able to reach these levels.
Some things I have accepted from Her, things which should have shown that the long term wasn't possible: Proof of Love.

The Proof of Love is the definite sign that Trust doesn't exist or isn't strong. Trust in oneself and also of course in the other one. This nasty bug that would make your partner think or even say ‘I am not good enough’. Never heard this one?

What are all tragedies about? Always about managing to show, or not, this proof: not managing actually. You can lead a horse to the water but you cannot make it Love you, or something like that...

How can you prove you Love? Why on earth, at a certain time, would someone look back and gather facts to try to explain how much Love is around? Explain Love... in 300 words.

I will never have us back, but is the pain worth trying again?
Why not deciding that shallow is good?
Would it help to swim in sha(g)llow water?

Not satisfying, maybe, but easy and comfortable: comfortably numb.
Should it be the choice I make and stick to now?
But then I would have to put a lot of letter between brackets when refering to my partner. Would I only prononce (p)ass(ion) or pass(ion) and (pass)ion would be used when having more scientific talks?
When would I use passion?

Why the fuck couldn't you live it the way it was? You sick or what?

Maybe it isn't so difficult to light a paper match on a marshmallow under water.

Isn't my home where her heart belongs?

She knew how to reach me deep inside, we'd walk and talk and touch tenderly: she found a part of me I could not hide from her only...

We built a love so strong that I thought it could never break, there was not a road we were afraid to roam.
The whole world was starring at us, glowing with this aura of Love... This trail of us passing by, still remembered by many.

We'd kiss all the way from Sydney to Paris cause in each other's arms we were home sweet home.

But she doesn't feel the same, and even if she does, she has given herself away for a dream that I hope will never turn into a nightmare.

Home isn't where her heart is anymore.

And she may still come home, but I live here alone…
And she may still come to her home, but I live in mine alone…
Home sweet home, Home sweet home…

My home isn't where her heart is anymore??????

Can i have us back?

If at first you don't succeed destroy all evidence that you ever tried.

I wonder of this thought should apply to a failed Love story.
Can a love story be a failure or is it just a story without the ending you were expecting?
Can I go back in time and have us back?

Can I?

And, if i cannot, how can i destroy all evidence that i ever tried?

Because i sucedeed to be madly in Love, and i do not know how to destroy this Love...

Can i have us back?

So, just take this bear for a beer in a bar.

Some folks say there are no bears in this city, and some folks never seen a bear at all!
Some folks got a bear across the hall and some folks say that bears go around eating babies!
But we all know it is wrong: bears only have rabbits as best friends and they gather to cheer up sad donkeys together with jumpy tigers!!!

Some folks say that bears go around smelling bad while others say that a bear is honey sweet...
Some folks say this bear's the best I ever had, whatever they mean...
Some folks drive the bears out of the wilderness and some would even pay a fee just to see a one!
Me I just bear up to bewildered best.
Some folks even see the bear in me!

So meet a bear and take him out to dinner. And even though your friends might stop and stare, just remember that there's a bear with you and they just don't come no better than a bear!

Some folks say that bears go around eating babies, but you now know that bears only want kisses, on your sweet lips while fishing for a glimpse of interest in your sweet eyes.

So, just take this bear for a beer in a bar.
It will gear up for a dance and for sure the tiger, the donkey and the pig will come across...
Just make sure you will softly blow kisses away...

A book from this Woman

That picture hangin' on the wall was taken by a friend.

He gave it to me when he owed me ten but now it doesn't look like much I guess.

But it's all that's left of him.

Why don’t you step in Babe?

I'll cook a meal, I'll tell you about where I've been. It will not take too long, then, I'll show you all the things I own. My treasures you might say, not worth much …
But they brighten up my day.

There, here's a book I got, from this Woman I thought I knew. I guess I read it front to back, fifty times or so. It's all about the good life, and staying at ease with the World.

It's funny how I love that book, and I how much I loved that girl.
It’s funny how I love that book and how I don’t care about Her anymore.

Hold this piece of glass up to the light from the spotlight here, in the kitchen.

It's a prism glass I found on the road, back home. Can you see that little rainbow??? Well it's not really a prism I guess it just broke in a funny way when I was on my way here.

I call it ‘My Heart’ because mine also broke when I found out I would not make it here with her since she was heading somewhere else with somebody else.

I chipped my glass heart when the fleshy one stopped beating.

I keep it as a reminder…

Well that's about all I own, and all I care to I guess. Except these sunglasses, that funny yellow vest and my father’s leather jacket.

Take away the miseries and you take away some folks’ reason for living.

This is an observation I was making to myself yesterday.
I was looking at the panorama through the glass window of the train bringing me back to the capital. I was enjoying the sweet smell of the perfume the woman beside me was wearing. Freshly showered and pampered, I was imagining her on her way to meet this special person, maybe getting excited as the train was wolfing the kilometers.
I was remembering how I used to feel when I was walking to the places where I was supposed to meet my angel, how excited and out of breath I was when finally seeing her. The burst of joy when touching her skin, and the lust that was coming with.
Then I told my colleague, also beside me but on the other side, that it was a really nice feeling to sense the joy she was filled up with.
He only told me that perfume as heavy as this give him allergies and sometimes even asthma.
The lovely lady was starting to smile, giggle and as she grabbed the mirror from her bag, to check on her make up, he started to tell me all about his allergies and how difficult his life is.

She was gently brushing her hair, now dryer, still smiling. She then checked on her lipstick and stopped smiling: the lipstick went sliding on the lower lip and onto the other on. She evened out both lips and bit a piece of cloth. After double-checking, she looked at me and gave me a big smile.
My colleague was now complaining about how horrible it is to age and how horrible it will be if ever his wife dies before him…

I looked again at this woman in love, thought about happiness, and smiled back at this sixty years old person…

Poets don't go mad

Poets do not go mad, but chess players do. Mathematicians do go mad, and cashiers as well, but creative artists very seldom. I am not attacking logic; I only say that this danger does lie in logic, not imagination.

I took a long break from writing and got back into my old habit of introspecting and observing people. I have been also monitoring myself in different situation, and I found out that I am now able to step out from situation and become an observer of my own life.

A great talk with a monk over the weekend taught me that this is one of the meditating techniques they use, and it made me wonder a lot. Am I changing myself so much that I start to relate more to monks than to my old fellows?
Puzzled with this discovery, I went back home and looked at the music I am listening to at the moment, and it is indeed more related to chilling out and thinking than the mind blowing punk-funk shit one can listen to on TV. Am I doing something to myself??

I also went out, a lot actually, and happily came back: there isn’t just a monk in me, there is certainly still this passion that’s burning. And I haven’t forgotten my monkey, whatever I try to do, she is still comes back directly or indirectly.

I still fell her smooth skin on the tips of my fingers, and the softness of her hair still makes me shiver. She wasn’t in any of the places I went to, but of course I had to bump into someone who knows her, this little angle, and we got to speak about her. I got to realize that I was still drawn…

I know it won’t be possible, and I know I should be rational about this. But I don’t want to kill this sweet pain, that’s part of being human: longing for something…

I swim faster and better.
I have this devil that I am afraid to release, but it is seriously banging at the doors…
My wings are ready,
I never realized that I am a cool person,
Why not spreading the wings and the news????

I have kept my sanity, my heart and ability to Love.
I haven’t changed my values; Life hasn’t altered my goals and references.
Man, I hope you too are feeling great.