The man who cried love

Once upon a time there was a man gifted with the innocence of a child.

His gift allowed him to feel the purest love of all, a lifetime of learning and discovering the world with his beloved.

But the kid was curious, and one day he yearned for more... for the unknown, for a piece of the world for himself, on his own. But she did not understand, she felt she was not enough. Out of spite she left him alone, the man and the child. That was the first time the man cried as the child inside started to die.

The man needed to forget, so he followed the feelings of his nature. He felt sporadic doses of love and many more of pleasure... it was not enough. And the child witnessed it all...

The time to come back arrived, and he did not know any other home but that next to her love. He foolishly carried himself to her arms; she took delight in his loneliness... there he was, back where he belonged. The paths were connected again, without bifurcations... looking forward, never backwards, nothing had changed, had they forgotten?

But again, the child woke up the man... he wanted to see what was ahead, where his eyes could not reach, where the path did not go... far from predestined... from the expected. So he started to walk while holding her hand, “I’m showing you more” he said. She did not believe, not understood... once again, she was not enough to make him stay... she walked away and left them alone.

The man and the child stood still, they did not move, they didn’t know why.

They wanted to run, to make her come back; they wanted her to leave, to feel themselves free.

But they could not move, they did not want, they didn’t know how...

This time the man did not cry.

His heart stopped feeling, the kid stopped wanting...

The man wondered if he has been selfish; the child asked himself if he has been wrong.

The appearance of doubts gave rise to frustration, lack of decision, fearing the uncertain.

The eyes of each other were claiming reproach.

The man accused himself for the choices he made.

These choices became mistakes, the mistakes began to weight.

His love turned into hate, hate into blame...

He did no longer believe love could exist

Feelings of mistrust derived into lies

Desire of punishment, the idea of revenge

Love turned into lust, women into cunts

He used them as a mean to forget his loneliness

Spreading his guilt with every ejection of content

Every drop of his cum poisoned their hearts

Addictive as a drug, they always came back

The man was dishonest, he was not gifted, he was not innocent

He chased in the night the voice of the child.

He could not hear, he could not feel it.

For the last time the man cried, as he realised that in his arms the child had died.