I carry a great disgrace. I was born with my soulmate. My existance began the moment she came into this world. I saw her birth, I saw her growing up until she became the perfect creature that she’s now, I realized I love her as soon as she understood what it means to love.

I’ll never be with her, she will never know about my feelings. And, in the case she could knew, why on Earth would she want to stay with me? I have no hope. I could never tell her ‘I love you’ because my words are silence. I could never touch her, because my hands are made of fumes. I could never look into each other eyes, because mine are completely black and empty. Out there, there are tones of men better than I’ll ever be, men who have voice, real hands and eyes. I know she won’t waste herself on me. Although I understand it, that doesn’t make it less painful, because, after all, even though I don’t have voice, hands or eyes, I do have a heart.

Sometimes I wish I could get out of here, far away, and forget her. But that’s impossible, because our existences are linked. She’s the only thing I have, my only reason to live. I have to follow her wherever she goes,  I have to by her side whatever she does. I’m forced to watch when she’s with another man, when some of them break her heart, I’m forced to watch her cry alone at night, feeling powerless, because there’s nothing I can do. Some days I wish I could put an end to my gray existence, but it’s forbidden for me to die before she’s still alive.

I wish for the nigth to come. With the arrival of darkness, I can fuse with her, I can fall over her like a dark caress, while she sleeps on her bed. I contemplate her serene face, fondle the strawberry of her mouth, her neck, her breast and draw her silhoutte in the pale ligth of the moon, in the calm waters of night where the flame of my desire goes to die as her body slips off my elusive and incorporeal hands. So asleep, so vulnerable, I could kill her easily, surround her gooseneck and tighten until she stops breathing, ending all for us and putting an end to this longing and suffering. But I can’t, I swear I can’t. The difference between me and humans is that they kill what they love, while I’m incapable of such a crime.

So I spend all night watching her, until light comes back with the dawn and snatches her away from me one more day. Although I try desperately to hold on to her, she belongs to the light, she stands in the ligth, where I can’t reach her. When sun shines, her hair and white skin do so, she seems so full of life and perfect, a perfection that hurts on me, because it shows me how imperfect I am, how crummy, how worthless. Although we’re linked, our ways will always be as far as the Sun from the Earth. The only comfort I have is that, as we were born together, will die together. Death would be the only one which separates us. At least, I’ll die in her arms.

 

Oh, if you’re wondering, I’m her shadow.

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