An essay about you.

When I have been asked to write about love, I got a little bit upset
because I thought I have been writing about that strange feeling
maybe way too much during these years,
writing about my temps perdu
and sharing the most broken parts of my heart.
But was it enough? Were those words kissed by love?
I have made my researches and I have made my mind –
I re read my emotions and focused on the meaning of each syllable:
Was it love? Or was it just a shadow of love?
I have grown up bombarded with the illusion of the purity of this affection,
but like every – perfect – illusion, it does have an end.
The end shown as soon as
I found true heaven in hell sleeping in the dark side of Nirvana,
as soon as I opened my eyes realizing that every Ying lives beside every Yang;
touching some kind of consciousness of the whole cake.
This is my current vision of love, this is what keeps me alive:
Platonic love is something that does not belong to me anymore,
because that is fiction and I live in reality
even though I do not fit in it so well.
I understood that love was not an enemy of hurt,
facing the fact that it is its complementary opposite-
one cannot exist without the other one.
Only letting ourselves drown in the wilderness of tenderness
could help the process of forgiving our pain,
managing to finally love the hurt away.