Man can never know the loneliness a woman knows …

“Man can never know the loneliness a woman knows. Man lies in the woman’s womb only to gather strength, he nourishes himself from this fusion, and then he rises and goes into the world, into his work, into battle, into art. He is not lonely. He is busy. The memory of the swim in amniotic fluid gives him energy, completion. Woman may be busy too, but she feels empty. Sensuality for her is not only a wave of pleasure in which she is bathed, and a charge of electric joy at contact with another. When man lies in her womb, she is fulfilled, each act of love a taking of man within her, an act of birth and rebirth, of child rearing and man bearing. Man lies in her womb and is reborn each time anew with a desire to act, to be. But for woman, the climax is not in the birth, but in the moment man rests inside of her.”
― Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934

The last moment

This moment.
When everything collapse.
Falls down on you.
Everything you built up.
Everything you wished.
Everything you hoped for.
Everything you ruined.
Everything rebels.
And comes down on you.

This one moment is the key.
The key to everything.
This one moment is memory.
Memories for all that happened.
Then you let go.
For the first time.
For the last time.
Finally the day has come,
for the last moment.
– sanados

And black it becomes

Fading to grey
All colors gone.
Withered to different shades of grey.
Scolded for shining too bright.
Punished for existence.
Stabbed and bleeding out.
Traces burnt to ash.
Forever gone.
Since forever erased.
No memory shall ever remain.
For all the time just grey.
In eternity meant to darken.
– sanados