Blue Moon tonight, a special night.
It happens just in a while that you can see twice in month the full beautiful moon. Secret whispered dreams for you, with all my special wishes of love, with all my heart.
Oh no, it’s not about you, it’s never been!
It’s about me, myself, the way I face it.
Being me and living with, going on and struggling for that dream that never fades away completely.
Yes, now I got it, it’s about that dream: complain with my parents: Book and Movie, they’re busy actually, they’ve got so many kids!
It’s not about you, it’s never been.
Curiosity won me.
I read “fifty shades of grey”, grey as the colour of his darkness, grey as his name, grey as his colour eyes.
Not difficult in any step, yes it was smart for some parts and no, it was not porn, come on! I don’t understand why it comes to these terms every time a book it’s written for a female public.
Ever read Tropic of Cancer? Delta of Venus? Emmanuelle? If you read a book it’s because you’re not into the story tale, most of the times.
So, it’s not that reading Fifty S. means your into s.m. , it’s not for me for sure.
The book itself is smart, I thought all the times “she knew she would sell it”, but there is a slim untouchable line that crossed me and it shocked me.
Now I have to think what is my problem, one of many, because I cried, yes!
I say this and I’ll always deny it.
We girls never want to say we have read some romances!
This one has some immediate links to Bridget Jones and Twilight, others probably I didn’t catch.
So I’m quite anxious about my crying, it touched me deeply. Maybe I’m a bit stressed, maybe some deep chords in my soul resound when I read about wanting and loosing and loving and being scared about the loss.
Every day it’s a new discover!
Said twice, to you, the same you.
And you get bored, always, impossible conversation, I’m not in your interests.
So, when I try,You get bored, than I stop, going on with this job.
Then you don’t like me turning off on you and you start chatting about balls in the air, or that’s what it shows to me.
Write girl, go on writing, build something in the clouds, tough.
Isn’t relaxing the thought that there will always be someone who doesn’t know you and somewhere you’ve never been?
It’s hot, so hot today I don’t know what to do with myself.
This body, I feel I have one too many!
There is a breeze incoming but it’s like the breath of a wet dog, have a try!
I think I’ll go in the kitchen, I haven’t been able to write new pages, maybe looking to the olympic athletes will give me a better perspective.
I’ll feel happier for sure!
Is the way you miss someone or the way you need his closeness that gives your love its weight?
Maybe love it’s a thought stuck in my mind, unable to survive outside.
Maybe I pictured so many hearts on my inner walls they’re falling apart, snowing red dreamy bloody love.
Love, love somehow my love
I don’t care about anything but my feelings today,
looking for a good place to rest in peace.
I lay down in the sand waiting for the wave
to catch my ticklish feet in freshness
to gently restore my tired soul in a touch.
Dreaming it’s free,
disenchantment’s the price.