Dear "Puppet of Passion",

- False Smile - by ~Edonist-Girl

Today I realized what was the reason why I was so strong that day you humiliated me and went away. That reason is simple, my dear: I felt love for you.

I know it doesn't makes sense, but it is a reality. I was completely lost in you, consumed (now I realize) by your fragile existence; absorbed by the instincts you woke up in me. That love kept my soul safe. In the other hand, you were guided by the titanic forces of envy, arrogance and superficiality, which became vines that concealed the most beautiful flower within their bowels. If you loved me, those feelings were hiding that love.

You were one of those passions that dazzle like the sun itself; that burn, that consume. You're a world within a nicely decorated bottle of perfume, but with a very high price. Oh, my dear... I created poetry and you smoked it like a simple cigarette. You were just a smile...

Yes, a smile .

I think smiles are more dazzling than a look, but I know that a look is more sincere than a smile. Oddly as it sounds, a look rarely shuts up, it shows what you try to hide inside a grin. That was your whole existence: a mirage.

You seemed to be a new word to me, a new song, a new beginning. You knew I was living harsh times and you saw that as an opportunity to get close to me. The charming voice you used to seduce me, the gentle acts, all those empty words... everything was just a lie to feel better with whom you were. You created a whole image of yourself inside your head and decided to wear that mask just to realize that it is part of your face now.

A lady should always hide her past inside one of her temporal masks, letting others see just what she is living right now and nothing else. It is very important to preserve the composure, except when it is with someone you trust. Shameful things as the ones they once lived or the pain that love has caused should always be kept locked for our own good; and it is always important that you learn something from them. If not, you'd be totally false and hypocritical. That's what you did, that's why your farse became bigger and bigger.

But, you know? Even with all that disappointment I feel, I still remember all the things I used to feel. It doesn't means I still feel them, but that you caused a great impact in my life. Yes, you did. In so many different ways...

The other day I went down to the kitchen and decided to drink a cup of tea that Ernest was preparing. I never noticed what the flavor was until I sat down and had the first sip. The aroma was the first thing that struck me. I almost choked, the taste made ​​me close my eyes tightly, controlling myself so that I didn't spit it. Ernest looked at me with surprise, wondering the reason of my reaction.

"Is it very hot? Isn't it of your liking?" he asked me, I shook my head, interrupting, finding a whole world inside that drink.

That taste...

Oh, that taste!

That faint strawberry flavor of which my black tea consisted was a wave of feelings of melancholy, of nostalgia...

It tasted like sea of memories. I know it tasted like those lips; like your lips, your nature; it tasted like the body of a rose before you discover the thorns. It was a delicate, pleasant, flavour; it felt like sweet poison in my mouth. I sighed when I finished, considering the speed with which something is consumed as in the case of a cup of tea.

Now you understand the image I had of you? Can you understand the pain I felt when I discovered your arrogant and hipocrite nature?

I am writing this letter to let you know what I felt. I am happy that I won't see you again as you fled somewhere else.

When I kissed for the first time it was as if all my problems had extinguished; it was like the rebirth of a cocoon to a butterfly . Who knew you were rotten inside and were only wanting to absorb my last breath pretending to fill your personal holes ? I loved you , but now you are part of the torn and frayed pages of my own book .

Now I realise it doesn't matter, the one who will suffer will be you and your "hedonist" nature. I have enough maturity now to understand I was just a kid back then; a kid that, inside the whole wave of confusion that lived within my soul, tried aimlessly to find a semblance of stability induced by my baser instincts, and that included the desire to eat the world like fast food when the truth was that I was only devouring mouthfuls of air.

But now I must forget that past. I must go on.

I remember the things I wrote that night, words with which I am pretending to finish this letter:

"I loved following my instincts,

I fell believing in all your words,

I sighed for a heart that was never mine...

and I felt a passion for childish and meaningless illusion.

I've grown up, I 've seen you under the mask...

And you seem suspended in your own oblivion.

I love you.

I hate you .

I breathe you.

I detest you.

This is a goodbye to you , lost poetry, that I ...

I will follow my own way from now on."

Sincerely,

Your blind heart.