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  • Geoffrey_Ramaud

    I am no longer afraid of you. I can now look you in the face and describe you, no longer flee from your mystical language and your worried gaze, no longer hide myself from your present will and the place it belongs to, no longer blind me from the world that you shows me and lets me foresee, to have made myself of you, insensitive. No, I am no longer afraid of you, and I can now act in reverse of what you imposed on me. From being impatient for you to try to understand you in order to deaf me from not knowing how to speak to you, until I was walled up for not knowing how to welcome you in order to martyr me to force me to reason with myself, about you. You, who actuate everything that I had extinguished from you, to seek your flavor in the experiences that disgusted me with what you are, to the point of forbidding me from you, from being the name of all my sufferings , until resigning myself to amnesia by choosing to ignore you, and everything that connects to you. No, you don't scare me anymore, I'm no longer afraid of your word and your breath without a name and without air screaming to me to bring you back in my life, to be the only place where you please yourself, or you breathe to be accepted as you are, or you turn into an endless waltz of the joys of living what you are to eat, to swim, to hold against you, the reasons for this dream in which you are imprisoned. This dream which bears the fusion of a name, yours, mine, in an us, in a beginning, in a life. This dream which terrified me, now justifies that I bring back to you what we shared, the confidence, the laughter, the complicity, the tenderness. It justifies that I bring you back the look I had on you, not to be the one you saw, or understood. I may never have really described what she is to me, who she is to me. To be as deeply as simply, the emblem of what you are, the living of your passions, the friendship of your laughter, and the youth that you did not have. But if it is not from her that I am talking about, that I love and suffer from, it is perhaps more that I suffer from you, Love.



Saintes, Charente-Maritime, France

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