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Gritanteonline today!
by GritanteLisboa, Lisbon, PortugalJul 180 comments


"She doesn't like love stories ...
Love novels.
Love movies.
Love poems.
Reunions, happy endings, in love stories.
I thought or love the invention of weak spirits, like a faith.
Unnecessary fragility. Source of dependencies and complications.
Loss of individuality.
She was not a cold or cold woman, she just did not believe and did not like the word love.
It satisfied the desire for sex not to create affections, commitments.

When she met him, she was already at a peaceful age.
He had built his life, free of permanent presence and longing.
For him, displayed back for the first time at the time of farewell.
For the first time I wanted to see someone again.
For the first time desirable to stay after the sacrifice or the body.
She said:
- Never say I loved or leave!
- I will never say I love you!

And the word love was a forbidden word.
Whenever he felt the word grow in him;
Whenever I knew he was a prophet, I shut him up.
It sealed the word in his mouth, with yours.
And the word love ... was silence.

He asked:
- Why don't you say the word?
- Why don't you want to hear it?
- Why do you make the word shame and secret?

She was silent ...

The promise made in a girl's bed was silent with a woman's hatred.
I was silent ... as I closed my ears to not hear a word.
He was silent, as he pursed his lips when the pediatrician said.

The word love, sign of acceptance, surrender.
The word love, word that would kill the girl itself.

She said to him later, almost in the following:
- Never say I loved or leave ...!
- I will never say I love you ...!

One day he didn't show up ...
The silence of love becomes unbearable
A new and unwanted feeling grew within her.
Try to ignore the body's call.
Shut the will ... Shut the longing ...

When you didn't resist.
When you give up the fight and receive yourself, turn it on.
He said sadly:
- I love you ....!
- ... and hung up.

He ran to her. He had waited so long for voice and word.
He opened a door to her house with a key that was hers.
The key she doesn't have before anyone else.

Written on the walls of the corridor, in the living room, going out to a street through the windows and blinds.
Written in red, as if organized inside, tearing, piercing walls.
Written all over the house,
was the word “I LOVE YOU”.

He saw her in bed ...
In the hands ..., a paper that said fired.
On paper, drawn by child's hands,
there was a smiling man holding a girl with wet eyes in revolt.
The man said I love you and smiled.
A word crossed out over and over ... until the paper is torn ...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 18
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on Jul 18
Last Viewed: 13 hrs ago
Last Edited: Jul 18

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