Truth (or death)

The truth it is, the truth no less, the truth of love and the truth of rest.
For rest my heart, in need it is, to rest from the agony of your absence.
To see you smile it melts my brain.
To hear you talk, my knees give out.
To see your eyes as they look at me, no matter how meaningless for you may be, my heart, my heart it skips a beat.
My heart, my soul, my mind . . . All stolen in the blink of an eye no less, in a second there you were.
But you were there before, and I didn’t notice and now that I see you. You don’t see me?
To love, to learn, to loose, to . . . regain?
Regain what was lost, regain what was not. If it is, then it was not, but it could be that it was and we didn’t notice.
Would you love me if I loved you?
Would you? Will you?
To love is pain, to love is death.
Death is love. We die, don´t we? When we love?

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