If I choose not to speak to you again,
it's not out of stupidity or spite:
you simply disgust me.
Because you have worked so hard to stab me in the back in the most subtle ways that even the most cruelly refined definition would not be sufficient to describe you and to outline the contours of what you represent for me.
I don't know if it's difficult to deal with me or not:
I demand sincerity
because without anything it makes sense.
I ask for honesty and consistency.
Good speeches leave the time of an instant:
only gestures can tell who we are,
only our choices can embrace
when fragility describes the thoughts that we do not reveal.
If you hurt me
and if I don't react dramatically to your decision to disfigure me,
don't be surprised.
There will be a day when,
without words,
I will demonstrate,
to your ego and the world,
who you are, who I am and what we will never be.
I don't fear you. You disgust me.
Aware of the wonderful journey that I am lucky enough to experience,
I choose the peace of indifference.
To leave the heart clean.
To choose only Love...
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