She wrote about him all the time, she never mentioned his name again, she wrote about her love and her lust, she wrote not taking any needed breaks. She just wrote about her sadness, about his absence and her bereavement, she wrote to extract all from memories, to erase him from her suffering mind, she wrote to welcome solitude at last. Still, it was no use, her memory revived him, her time with him became stronger, he wa...

Living by proxy in your mind, with just the promise of my surrender. Living by proxy in my own skin, with just the memory of a few encounters. Living by proxy in a fleeting time with just the solitude left by your absence.

In the old city of canals, of narrow winding streets, in the city of dark waters and bridges of mystery, there is a time when all stops and goes back to centuries ago... Trust me, in this beloved city I met you once, in times long gone, you loved me once and I let you go... I was foolish, still, I loved you so! In the old city of canals and bridges, you and I loved each other furiously, with a passion that burned like ice...

He just moves, walks and smiles, goes about chores and many tasks, he eats so well at such fine sites, leads a handsome life, wears fine clothes, walks in great shoes, he is a god in bed, no doubt about that. But...do not make the fatal mistake of thinking he cares... he cares for no one, he just performs well, he is a cardboard man. There are no feelings in that cold, icy heart, it only pumps blood. He is just a nice fig...

One day we can sit together, in a quiet garden with no flowers, with white statues watching us. Then we can remember our many attempts at love while a pale sun hits our hearts and a cold breeze kisses us. One day we can remember and cry for lost hours, smile at our escapades fondly and then return to ourselves. Lost in each other for a while we may still find the sealed door that guards time and memory. And maybe then we...