Inlove

As I remember from a song, someone said that "Love hurts"....
I have to disagree... If love hurts it's not love... And after all, it's not love that hurts, the pain it's just inside your mind, it's self inflicted and appears when you feel insecure of your love.

I think that somehow, all my blood has been replaced by a warm fluid substance, something that, if you cut open my bluish veins, I could define as love spilling from within me...



I guess it's true... we're innocent creatures, we've already washed away our stains in the fresh snow, and now, when they cut us open with their inquisitive looks and cold gazes, we start bleeding love.

We, the children of the nature, the ones who live among you, the ones who are different, the ones who smile without an apparent reason in the subway, the ones who still believe in happy endings, the ones who try saving the future of this earth... the ones that have a light in their eyes and warmth in their souls...
The children of the sun shining from under the skin, shimmering in our smiles, blooming in our eyes... The children of the moon and stars, barely seen under the semitransparent skin...
The children that have a certain glow, unseen by the others...
It's hard to find us if you're not one. We're the ones that get lost within words, songs, detached within the daily flow of people, in our own word, beneath the surface, inside our minds, where the love replaces our blood... and when it drips, it shows us the road to freedom...