Go South

I tried to explain it to her in a way that anyone could understand it. Of course, she couldn't. Or wouldn't.
Every word that came out of my mouth made no sound at all in her ears, because she had blocked all things resembling feelings (she never had any to begin with). She just stood there and looked at me. I kept talking, but all my efforts were in vain. I told her about my rambling soul and the life i used to lead before i met her. My wasted dreams, my useless talent and the love that used to fill my heart. How it all went away when i realised that i was falling apart. And there was no one there to catch me.
Still, she stood there, with her cold face and defiant eyes. I have to admit that she made me feel like a new born child. Pure, virgin to a world full of lies. Poetry was never meant to heal hearts. It's just a handful of sentences, rhymes and melody. And not being able to tell her exactly how i felt, was unbearable. If only she could say something. If only she could love me like i need her to. The way love should be. Simple. Easy. Effortless.

She just stood there, gave me a last glance with her rolling eyes and finally said: "HABLÁ EN CRISTIANO, SALAME!"