Being a Dot

rink hairI want to be a dot. A tiny mole somewhere on your body. So you can caress me every time you shower. And I can walk all over you and love your every part. Without your knowledge. In your sleep.

I will love you privately. Just for the love itself. Just for myself. No expectations. No disappointment. No judging and pretentious words.

I won’t speak at all… Some nights you will feel me. Pressed against your chest. Or above your upper lip. On your forehead. Kissing you gently without asking for anything in exchange.

Midnight conversation

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     I do not despise social media anymore. Quite the contrary. I recently discovered that “it” can help you feel more like yourself. The only condition being that you have to keep your physicality in private. Someone will argue that your body is nothing but yourself and you cannot separate it from the rest of what it is that you call “me” but I do not agree…If you want to be the true self that you always feel you are never quite being, better leave the flesh out of it. Or lets say it this way. Even if you are mature enough to feel in harmony with your body and treat it as s natural extension to your, lets say soul, your interlocutor might slip and get distracted. Might miss the most important that you want to show him. Might judge by the most obvious. And you don’t want that, do you?

So leave the anatomy out of it. Unless you are talking about the shape of your emotions, the size of your dreams, the colour of your hurt, the beauty of your soul. Then it is perfectly fine! Draw a picture of it with your words.

I recently discovered that a conversation with a total stranger can be absolutely honest and interesting. It awakes your senses. Provokes your intellect. Invites your imagination for a dance. A brief one, but intense. Challenges you and even involves you into an affair. If all the written thoughts match as the bodies so rarely but magically melt into one another. If the interest and curiosity are so sharp that cut the air. If your skin is electrified with attention and expectation of the next line. Then you are in love. And for the next five minutes, until the down breaks you simply adore. Not the screen of course, as the screen is the only question that remains. The only doubt. The only cast shadow.

You adore the person on the other side. The words he types without burdening you with his voice. The world that is. The moment that passes. The darkness, so still. The silence so weighted.

If you want to end it. Ask for a photo… And you will understand. This is social media after all. It has nothing to do with flesh.