Looking out of the window
I let myself wonder…

All the loves I have lived
Had different colours
Tastes and unique shades
With different intensities

They all have been within me
For a full lifecycle.

Looking back at them
The ones I have lived,
I see clearly that
They all had their apices,
Before reaching rock bottom
And then fading away…

I cannot say that I have stopped loving
All the ones that have offered me
Love, cumplicity and freedom…

The loves I have lived
Have never made me a prisoner
Even if at times,
I mistook unhappiness
With imprisonment.

How wrong was I
That I did not realise that
Real love will never die
Even if not present in a format of a human being,
It will still be there
Sleeping somewhere

For a sparkle to ignite
All dormant feelings…

Even if there seems to be a need
To transcend feelings amongst individuals.
Love will always be recycled
And return,
In different forms and shades
Tastes, colours and intensities…

Real love never dies…

It only gets ajusted
To the tenderness of your heart.

Real love will never let you suffer
More than what your heart can support.


Published by: Henry Bravisk

I would like to think of myself as a writer. I might not be able to write perfectly or as often as I should, but my writing style is very personal and meaningful... It's free writing. I observe the world and love people watching, whilst scribbling on my mind's black book.

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