Another dedication to the very same Taurus person; rather finding his voice soothing, and using self-expression and creative freedom to waltz with it.

I am striving to comprehend and picture a former partner's depression and self-hatred through intuitive, immediate writing, where her subconscious is bathed in shame, negative self-talk, guilt, and wounds that open, uncleaned by herself or others. My own hands are stained, wrapping myself around her, aiming to alter her misery, which found a stable companion in me; suffocating myself in self-abandonment.

Reminiscing physical pain, severe coughing, which complemented a parallel reality I was tangled within: betrayal from the one I loved the most; supposedly a way of the universe to choke me with the truth I denied: me and her were no longer aligned.

Looking back at a bond I had with a former best friend; struggling to fit in, washed by guilt, past wounds, and the innocent desire of wishing him would've seen my reconciliation intentions as pure; alas, we both were barely afloat.

To Jassem: you were not as Mon said someone I used for inspiration, not in a perverted, impure way, but a muse to my expanding feelings and making sense of them through writing; I sincerely, deeply felt for you; neither knew how to communicate.

Returning to self, to my creations, my creativity, rather than further harbouring a shared misery, sunbathing underneath our mutual insecurities, unresolved trauma, pent-up feelings. I set you free, as you wished; I let go a few years ago, bit by bit.

Dedication: to a minor crush who happens to be a Taurus (hence reference to venusian); and hope to have been mutual interest or at least curiosity; using him as a muse.

I wrote this intuitively based on picturing wood floor bending and being transmitted within its texture, following a sense of belonging tightly, suffocatingly, needing so to understand why my nature did not seek to be affiliated to anything but myself and my creation.

An imagery where my insecurity (minor acne) would be treated softly by a former blue-eyed love interest; fragile for not controlling the insides of my skin, hoping for his sight to dig deeper, towards my soul; although loosely connected, I yearned for his communication when other imperfections rose to our derma, immediate reaction of betrayal on his side, and overall unsaid words bathed in our distance and brisk ending of friendship (may I be allowed to call it so; if not, then acquaintance).

Swimming in a loop of self-betrayal, overextending loyalty to a running dune, succumbing to its heaviness, her own depleted self, bathed in depression, neglect, scars.

Point of reference: a former ex lover and best friend who dealt (possibly still does) with severe depression, drowning in its effects, self-hatred, to which a plot twist further fuels her state: the awareness and knowledge that she was supposed to be aborted; our bond being briefly described as co-dependency; with me putting her above my needs; and the third person being the authentic me, cutting through the illusions.

Waltzing with a figure who wore her heart on a sleeve, her fingertips touching the materials of ex partners drenched in mud: patriarchy, *** stereotypes; freeing herself through creativity and openness to inwards.