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My Memory ... I remember only too well.

A ringing phone at 3 am earlier this week, like it or not is suspect.

can legitimately expect bad news, or at least some sort of emergency.
can admit that this kind there, unable to appear before the middle of the night and 3 / 4 of his cirrhosis.
One can imagine a childhood friend of colony has landed in Paris and he has had our number and that ... to we adventure and tour of the Grand Dukes.

Why we no longer love?

That is the answer to all these suppositions, someone who suddenly wants to talk about the heart's rhythm and cadence of feelings, bring the stuff buried on the surface, it looks imposing pure, why people would stop loving, why, we, we did as everyone else.

I do not know what to say, it is too late to ask such a thing, too soon perhaps. It's never the time to ask such a thing. Do not ask me that. No real answer.

-Seriously, why you no longer love?

Seriously, I was already serious. Why
want to know why we no longer love someone when there is already inexplicable to love someone.

Why you say anything?

I remember many things that they lived, he and I, I lose myself in cities where it is perhaps not gone, I mix slides memories, I see the bag of letters love, or was it breaking? I descended to the cellar unable to throw ... I remember, it had electricity when they had kissed, the first time. For real. Electricity. Our lips trembled and had our hair as our hands were made of silk, it was quite stunned. Stunned ourselves, then we said, surely, that was it, love in a great burst of egotism.

"You want to talk about?

think I finally have nothing to say about the end of love stories. I abhor the things that end while we are continuing; points to the line, the book that gives the library the files being closed, all that. I do not like. It saddens me at the highest point. I think when you love someone, you should love it otherwise, if the weather spoils the story is that people do not like each other for the right reasons is that they were disappointed, have finally realized that ... I abhor the misfire. The mess. And things end, then.
Except for good movies. And yet, Has it a package which I think there is no logical reason to stop now when everything the world wants it to last forever.

Why it did not last forever?

What I can say to this man, this man I loved to death. No indeed, not in dying, especially: to kill him instead, and several times that I liked without any consciousness of the rest of the time, people, life itself. All those things in which our love grew. All these things without which I would not have this call today.
What I can say to this man while it is certainly himself that he questions and I am not the person to whom he must account if he wants an answer, ultimately, the voice of reason. Because I do not know everything, I could only bring more questions to its question marks, and because, finally, if I knew he did not ask me.
If I knew, maybe we would not we ever loved, or perhaps we would like always.

I remember this story I heard or invented, I do not know who told a couple, every morning, wondering:
"So? We continue? "
and every morning, is responding
"Let's go."
After coffee, anyway. Cigarette smoking may be. But every morning of every week of every month of the year. Years. It continued because they wanted and they were told.
I remember the story of this couple and asked to mine: "So? We stop? "

East what stopped loving or just want to say?

He shrugged, unsure, hesitant, worried. It was already answered, and both of us already knew that shoulder shrug here we might shudder over there in other kisses. We said we loved each other, because that was the case, we loved each other. Yet. We said goodbye before you no longer love each other before the day when we replace the tender farewell and a little disoriented by a door slams and insults that do not even think.
Anyway, the doors, they had been abducted since the start in our apartment "open." We had talked about it, the walls were shaking under the impact of nervousness, and it was held not to imitate these gestures that we belonged to any way.
And then, insult, it was our sweet little words, too because we had promised, one evening he and I and a bottle of Cote Rotie, never called Asshole Bitch and because we too loved words and proper sentences. Because it either, it does not look like us.

So to get hurt, it was necessary that we work with great determination to develop new meanness, mediocrity and unpublished, at this moment, no one had neither the time nor the envy.

-Will you still love me, you?

I had told on the porch of the only door that was forced to keep, one that kept us away from the rest of the world and nosy neighbors, had told a different story , also invented, surely: a couple in jail, his men, her women. Good.
The window of one does not overlook the other's, but their voices are, then, every night-they were the night he opened his window and shouted "goodnight my love, I t love "to kill head, she replied, not weaker," I love you my Love, good night. " And they closed their windows, leaving others still imprisoned longer alone in these echoes.

the evening, my young man came to my new window from one foot to land loaned by a friend who knew that once we had said "stop" could not continue to share the nest which was believed to "always." From my window came a thunderous "goodnight my love, I love you and without you, I'm in jail, which still resonates when, down in the street while I fall asleep, people are unaware of they can cause, bellowing statements to windows closed.

Me I love you still.

He will always love me.
"Encore" and "always" mix in my limbic system, I do not remember which one I heard most, and if I gave myself not even one.

http://www.deezer.com/track/915999

I believe again because I never stopped and never really started, but I can not tell him if he, I love it. Again and again. If he came tomorrow with two tickets to the end of the world, I would follow? I would follow for the right reasons, ie, for no reason? As I did, once. "Once" is a word that makes me think of a name of a plant or flower that has not yet discovered, hidden Thousand Leagues Under the Sea seems like each other and when we discover the , elucidate this mystery, this amazing mystery that is in eternal love which makes us to reduce everything to the end and death, with a lot of "always" and "never." With some "yet". Sighs.
So we would like nothing we promise, and perhaps we would like really. The question is not "why we no longer love? "but" because of what we thought we did love each other wrong? "Because: all his shit. Do not mix our neuroses, if you love yourself, please, do not do that.

Me, I love you still. You too, right?

I do not like many people, you know. It was never my cam. I should tell him to lie after all.
And then he talks to himself since earlier, he does not speak frankly, he asks questions, no answers, just my breath which indicates that I'm here, damn there, he knows and he continues. I should say that, obviously, I would love him but I always say never. And I do not want to hear it. If we were to love again and not yet , should we meet. We forget, we rediscovered. Contends that one suddenly, not because of memory but thanks to us. A little because of the memory, okay, maybe, but so little. We love each other us, not projections or projectors.

-No?

No. Yes. I do not know. I remember. You rhyme with The End, for that, you have no purpose, but others have come and still promise me forever, which I do not believe me because I know I will die, and faster than their love and promises, surely.
I must speak because my tongue like contempt now that contempt is contemptuous and for those who misunderstand, I must speak to him.

Yes, you say?

-Your voice is very small.
"I'm not much larger.
-Depends for whom.
-For the doctor, taking my degree I was little.
-Not for me, not my ...
-Should I cut off your speech there.
-... To tell me what?
No, nothing, I just wanted you to not finish your sentence.
Why?
"I wanted it.
Yes but why?
-You can not say nice things in an abandoned lot is a mess, it resonates on walls falling is ugly, I hate the mess, keep your nice things.
You're not forsaken land!
No, me neither, but "we", yes. It is the job of removing the debris, pulling weeds, turning the squatters to rebuild the walls ..
But no door-huh!

-Even without doors, it's job. In addition, ask any permissions anywhere. The City Council is very fussy. So we do not launch an abandoned because we love the pretty flower that has survived in the corner there, sheltered from the ivy and crumbling concrete, she deserves better. It deserves other people. People who go to greenfield land. Not vague at all. Clear, shining. Not us.

-If they go to greenfield land, they do not tell him they love it because it is in an abandoned ...?
-... It's true. But we must be willing to surrender a pretty flower. She will manage. She had a taste of happiness right? Then she will find him.
Why we speak in metaphor?
"Because otherwise it's too raw, it's when we were very close that uses figures of speech junk, what what you would put in place the land, and instead of flowers?
"I know.
Me either, it is like this. Metaphors are like gutters, is not just for dogs.
Why we no longer love?

I watch the meter on my phone: 14 minutes and 23 seconds. 14 minutes too, 23 seconds would be enough to answer "Why do we love each other more?" To "Why are we loved?"

"You who, in the languor of a monastic spirit,
ignore love of the tyrannical empire,
that your hearts are happy because they are insensitive,
all your days are serene, all your nights peaceful.
Blessed is the fate of the innocent.
Forgetting the world, forgotten by the world.
eternal Sun of pure spirit.
Each prayer heard and every wish fulfilled. "

Alexander Pope

-maispastrop-