Rose bushes

il y a
1 min

Russian Red  [+]

My window opens into the backyard with rose bushes and drying up on the April’s sun neighbors’ bed sheets. As I go out to buy some meal I feel sunkisses on my face. How precious they are. No changes, the same pleasure as it was the last spring.
No changes, the same regret, but now it became the kind of war fear that women used to have. Is he alright there? I don’t even know. No more opportunity to see him, even less than earlier. He’s in Poland, I’m in France and we are legislatively separated.
True love is such a natural thing. It’s not artificial in other words, what literally means it can flourish without people’s help. You can have it inside you, and if you don’t, then your tree is supposed to grow later. Like rose bushes in front of my window, they are beautiful on their own. So us taught the quarantine, some real things as nature are going to overcome alone.
And so is my love. It is such a good sign, no? Why then people often consider love as a weakness? I don’t know, I’m just going to go through as I always did.
I keep hoping one day I will meet again the man I love the most and he will see that girl he loved since adolescence. But now I’m sitting here alone one more evening and writing him a letter:
‘ Heavy rain has stopped and the sun came out again but this time dressed up in its sunset attire in pastel tones.
It smelled sweet and it smelled like freedom. Breathing became so easy that one moment it has got clear – happiness is there where you can breathe easily. What strangles us that keeps us tense that keeps us without a will. Do you want the happiness all life long? Then find it anywhere you can. If the happiness is just a moment then you shouldn’t forget that our time is weaved by them.’

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