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Mr. Jones writes a letter to his beloved Pandora.


Submitted:Jun 12, 2013    Reads: 34    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


I have this fantasy.
In it, i see her standing in front of me, on the other side of a big wide road.
And i can see her.
She is smiling and looking at me in the eyes.
Her look is mesmerising, i cant look away.
It brings back memories of long walks in the city and of passionate kisses.
I stand there and i look at her.
She is beautiful.

But i stand there.

The distance between us, although small, seems so big, it scares me.
Something whispers in my ear:
''Go to her. Go. ''
But i stand there, i do nothing.
All i have is the image of her round little head, her eyes penetrating mine
and the smile on her face tells me, she has been waiting for me.
But i stand there. That's all i do.

I want to cross that road.
I want to go to her,
grab her around her waist and lift her up as she laughs out of hapiness.
I want to kiss those lips like the last time,
when time itself stood still and nothing really mattered.

And i just stand there.

Looking at her.
Her, looking at me.
Afraid that i can't cross that road
Afraid that the smile on her face is just an illusion that my own excitement has created.

I do that you know,
I romanticise things.

The truth is, i would rather get stepped on by a moving car, trying to get to her, than to turn back and walk away.
I would rather have her push me back and cut off my wings, than to have her turn away from me.
That's the truth
And it hurts.

But all i do, is stand there.
I'm waiting for her to come to me,
although something tells me that she won't.

That's it. That's my fantasy.

However, it feels very, very real.
And what do I do?
I'm trying to turn her into litterature.
I'm trying to find something to hold on to.
I'm trying to find the courage and the certainty to turn away.

But i stand there. On the side of that road.

Trying to decide whether it's better fall as a true man,
or it's better to keep walking with doubts in my mind.





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