Rare

Odd, unusual, intriguing, mysterious, scary, dangerous, powerful, humble, sweet, precious. Odd as the day that sees the floor wet but the windows shining. Odd as the eyes crossing through the bar only to find themselves caught in a mirror.

Odd, twisted, enlightened, orchestrated, redundant, vicious. Odd as the lips that bite themselves with fear and lust, odd as the blurriest line, that, to be encountered when fighting the ego.

Odd, little, great, the paradox, patient, cold yet warm, weird, the hand than trembles in a warm day, the pupils that threat the breaking of all boundaries.

It is not so unusual, do you know? To find yourself caught in abuse.

It is not so unusual, do you know? To find yourself trapped in a bed.

Is is not so unusual, do you know? To do whatever to survive, to keep the comfort, to help others. Is that humble? Do you believe self-sacrifice to be always honourable?

It is not so unusual, do you know? To break a heart, again and again.

It is not so unusual, do you know?

But it is rare, it is rare indeed, to forgive yourself from the abuse, to forgive those that abuse you, to be heal enough to stand out from the bed, to quit what hurts you, at the expense of losing everything you ever wanted, that, that you ever desired, to quit that lie you tell yourself all the time.

It is rare to have such eyes, deep as the death will look at you, but fill with the love, the love of the one who sees in secret.

It is rare to use your hands for only your pleasure and to be touched by pure love, that who knows you, who loves you, who loves all of you. To find that, to find such a thing, it is rare.