Hidden

I could not possibly know if what I am about to tell is the definite and ultimate truth. But deep down, in the bottom of my soul, I truly believe it is.

There was a time when happiness touched her so profoundly, that every now and then. I am almost obliged to assess that that state was what ever her life was meant to remain like. Those early memories still haunt her every night, when on the vigil of something remotely similar, she was constantly finding herself looking for some original dream to hope for; and then she finds it unbearable, the very thought of dreaming in an ephemeral trivial sleep.

In the depth of her nostalgia, the cause of her suffering, may rest in the utter reason of her joy in life, outcrying a voice without reverberation, the deafness of the copious walls that surrounded her spirit, and the shoulder that ever missed; she longs still what she does not have; the chance to see.


Cuentos y Poesías por Cristhian Bourlot se encuentra bajo una Licencia Creative Commons Atribución 3.0 Unported.
Basada en una obra en cristhianbourlot.blogspot.com.ar.