Overcome with sadness

Cold and heavy, a soul that lingers in a room of silent whispers...
I hear their voices, calling my pain, calling her name, maybe it's the same.
Hands made of shadows dance around, playful... Reach for me, sinful...
They grab me and pull me, lift me and toss me... Hopeless.
Like an old doll, its playtime over, so has my body lost its will to move.
In nothingness I stay, looking without seeing. Endless darkness.
Fear.
The icy touch, a link to reality. The falling of drops, a countdown to insanity.
If ever I had control, it was lost to the agony of this room...
Stains on the walls become a message for the living, the art of believing.
Waiting for the light, dressing in red every second of every night.
Will it ever end? Colorless drops are lost forever.
Bottomless pit for the mournful, will you give me shelter?
Pain.
Spreading like a disease, merciless and cunning, going for the kill.
A glorious death for the unseen victim, smiling a stake through the heart.
My fate was to suffer... My redemption denied...
Marked from birth and to the last breath, my purpose was one.
The black curtains, witness to my revelation, filter the light that signals the end.
Fire of my life, will you forgive me?
Weakness.
And then I sleep.

Human perfection

Have you ever thought about perfection? Do you see it as a concept? Do you think it's an achievable goal or status? Do you believe humans labeled as 'imperfect beings' could ever reach perfection? I do. In fact, I think every human can be perfect in a way. Of course, not in the sense of never making mistakes or being physically flawless, but in the sense of seeing their existence as a perfect work of art. This is happening to me for the first time, being involved in a deeply intimate relationship with this 'perfect person' in which we trust each other so much that we're no longer afraid to open up and show our ugliest sides or confess our most hidden secrets, knowing that we will understand them and accept us for who we are, and who we were before meeting each other.

I must confess I thought many times in the past few months that she had made several 'mistakes', or that she should have said or done something differently. I even thought I was being treated unfairly. But now I look back and understand everything. I understand why she said 'those things' or acted 'that way'. I can see the whole picture, the whole path that led her to love me so much right now. She had to have doubts and think about a lot of stuff in order to be so sure of wanting to be with me right now, and I needed to go through a lot of 'trials' to show her and myself that I was up to what my words promised, that I was ready to face anything that she and life threw at me in order to make her happy. It is this 'whole picture', this understanding of her that allows me to say that she is perfect. I can see no flaw in what she did, for right now everything is just amazing.

I made mistakes as well. I even said some things that are really hard to swallow, about me, my past, my personality and my mental disorders. And she knows I'm a wreck inside. She knows I can break down anytime I'm alone and spend the whole night with drops of tears and blood staining my skin. And that is never easy... I'm really proud of her strength of will and patience to be there for me when I feel weak and insecure and afraid and I need her, because only she can help me. I know I'm not easy to love for many, many reasons, but she's still there for my, wanting to be my girl forever. I just can't explain with words how that makes me feel, how it makes me love her.

So... yeah, that's what I meant by perfection. Understanding someone completely and loving them and the whole path that led them to became what they are is the first step to see them as 'perfect'. The second one is loving what they mean to you. The third one is letting them save you and heal you. And then you will realize you're no longer walking alone. You will never walk alone again through this life.

Thank you, for being who you are. And thank you, for being in my life forever. You will always be perfect to me.

A poem of blood

One for the curious, two for release.
Three for obsession, four for the peace.
Five for the beauty, six for the pain.
Seven for the clock that ticks and tocks in vain.

Eight for a dream, nine for the hate.
Ten for no hope, eleven for the fate.
Twelve for the blade, thirteen for the shame.
Fourteen for a skin that will never be the same.

I need you...