Orange Sun

He does not think about anything, his mind seems to agree with the light and the darkness, he does not like the darkness, it’s just that he is martyred in trying to feel good with that part where the light is the opposite. The flights are almost like going and returning in the same place, it is sometimes thought that a great stretch was advanced but, the sad reality is that maybe one thousandth of a second was advanced, it would not matter to advance one thousandth of a second on each trip, but the life is short, it is insecure, it can not generate pleasure to believe that something has been gained when almost everything is lost in the attempt, even if you try to keep your breath in its natural state.

The songs while the trees disappear while watching through the window of the car, those songs no longer have the same effect as before, it is likely that the huge open wound is healing or perhaps was so exposed that developed a kind of resistance, not I know I miss a bit of that pain it made me feel like I was fighting for something the roads now seem to surprise me I’m letting them drag me away believing that it will not be as bad as it seems.

Many afternoons I looked out the window those afternoons with orange light as the sun was slowly hiding thousands of thoughts in my mind, most imagining a dimension where the worries were completely different, very likely that they were not even worries just calmness and freedom.

He left and the return does not seem to change the landscape forced me to think that I will not miss him but something powerful makes me want to return and stay safe in the hands of someone else thinking that life is about that, when I do not think of missing the place my thoughts are encouraging, they force me to make a decision that changes everything that nothing is left of that march and that return.

The fight gives flavor to what I see and feel, I can not demand more options the roads do not open with just wanting them you have to sacrifice something in the majority linked with the sentimentality that makes us weak and the memories of something that could be but for things that were not in my hands never gave rise to a completely different reality, it is my fault I longed for that reality several times of those afternoons with the orange sun in my window, in that moment I do not admit wanting something else, the things that arose After they took me to desperately to implore it was fulfilled and the ship floats with a fixed gaze without blinking that would sink it.

I wished you would hold me tight to have an interesting memory and then forget it, it turned out that it was not worth the risk, you are so busy being a complete idiot that you do not realize your great opportunity I do not blame you have other things to worry about, be flying for example you know it. The sky with the orange light vanished, the window no longer belongs to me, from here I can not see anything like it through my window, but I long to have something similar to see you until you return in the dark night. The soul has gotten a little out of control because it wants new adventures. The cold head does not give rise to new adventures. It is a hard battle, even though reason is still the fuel of victory.

I hear sounds of black birds I see them in the new window where I prepare my breakfasts, at first they bothered me their noise breaks my head, that change I like to observe them would be easier if it were a black bird it would be less heavy it could fly to the highest tree To stay there during the afternoons and to observe that orange sun I would observe it with peace I could not wish for something better than that, I would be a fool if I did, I could see everything. Courage can be demonstrated in small acts the result of it is satisfactory as well as waking up every day with motivation to continue, I like that.

Photograph taken from Pinterest

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Categorías:KAFME WRITING

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