Sad Girl🥀✨ @laura-mancini - Tumblr Blog

Orpheus by John Macallan Swan (1896)

Romantic Chimera

The silent rain of my tears connects with the torrential fall of water on the dense spring vegetation. Melancholic arrangements of a song from another century reverberate in the background. I try unsuccessfully to suppress the overflowing sadness and entertain my poor thoughts, watching through the whitish window of the past the sharp, heavy and strangely beautiful verticality of the storm.

But for a moment, losing the power to stare only at what is visible, I return to existence and the notion of my torturous and timeless impasse. I remember, as if the period existed beyond the comprehension of time, the tense and sensual dimension created around us the instant our eyes met. And in this bewitching and dissociative continuity, I enter captive into the vain and vile factory of longings that imprisons men. The memory.

It's impossible not to remember that when I lost myself in your gaze full of veiled meanings and realized the establishment of a dense atmosphere, one that makes the attraction and magnetism that submerge us in the torpor of fascination almost palpable, you, precisely the Muse that corrupts sanity and inspires the continuity of poetry, were willing - I believe to prove the existence of reality in the midst of the ecstasy of fantasy - to rearrange, with a frightened look, a rebellious lock of my hair. The subtle act seemed to merge into eternity when his delicate hands, which I had been fantasizing about touching in such a tempting way, lingered with such affection that, when I looked at you with greater intensity, I reached the point where my perception of space-time broke down and I dissociated between the real and the dreamlike. Here is perdition for a controversial paradise. Some of those who return from this labyrinth, even if wounded, later learn that too little is too much for the restrained platonic innocents.

Now, finding myself in the distant future, like a priestess of lost causes, sometimes vainly collecting clippings of old desires and expectations, sometimes ironically fleeing from such psychic projections, I slowly admire, in perceptive shock, the applied meaning of said diatribe, and finally see, under frenzy, part of the meaning of the infamous passions that (a)vassalize the senses of the body and reign over the fundamental desires of the life and spirit of so many others affected.