-I would have loved you.
-Show me. Where is this love?
I can’t see it, I can’t touch it.
I can’t feel it. I can hear it.
I can hear some words,
but I can’t do anything with your easy words.
Swallow your tears pretty girl, he once told you his truth and you turn around, busy to catch the train. And now you are all alone in the platform, waiting for your trains again and again and over and over again.
Who are you? He asked you. And you couldn’t answer because you didn’t know which of your masks you were wearing at that point.
Who sent you? He demanded to know. My dreams, you answered, copying a quote you once heard in a movie. I saw you in a dream and I knew I had to see you. Love woke me and I had to see you, you continued passionately.
There are consequences to one’s words. And there certainly are consequences to lies, my little actress. You knew that once and you spent your whole life avoiding lies and liars. But once you became a liar yourself, you couldn’t stop living in your play. Theatre became your life, or your life became a theatrical story? Liberation you named your unstoppable try of avoiding your life. You couldn’t face the truth. That the play had conquered your mind.
That the truth had stolen your boy.
(artwork: Milo Manara http://www.milomanara.it/ )