Brighter than sunshine. Lighter than feather. I'm all that whenever I'm inside you.
You are early today. You don’t look as peaceful as usual. What happened? The look on your face seems so distant from this humid corner of the world, it makes me wonder how on earth a beautiful creature like you becomes so lost. And all I can think of is that even stars fall, and we are only humans... You glanced at me twice from the moment you pop in until you sat down. And now I’m staring at you, directing a fictional play here, up here in my head. You are indeed the main actress. But who am I? I’m just part of the audience. I’m having my third cup of coffee while you are looking more anxious than ever. What is going on? You keep looking at your watch. You must be waiting for someone. And I wonder who that person might be. There he comes. I can’t hear your conversation but I must confess I’m dying to. Yes, I have to admit I’m terribly fascinated by the way you step into this little coffee shop. The way you gently take your seat and how you sip your hot cup of latte. I don’t drink latte, but watching you having yours, makes me want to have it through your lips. Every little gesture you make, drives me close to ecstasy. Am I exaggerating? Yes. I’m an exaggerator by nature. I can’t help it. But one thing is for sure: I’m dying to talk to you. Just when I thought I could break my shell today, there you are with someone else. Who told me to stop being a stranger? Who told me to take risks? If I said I was dying to talk to you, I’m sorry. I was lying. Because if I really was, I’d have moved forwards, looked at you in the eye and said: can we spend some time together drinking our hot lattes? But I didn’t and I’m not courageous enough to do so now. There’s nothing wrong in being a stranger. Or is it? I don’t need anyone to spell it out for me. Yes I’ve given up.
I see them leaving as strangers. The place is no longer packed of people. We don't know each other, and we don't have to. Because, we don't want to leave parts of ourselves for others to carrie on their shoulders. Or maybe we want to, but we just don't have enough courage and energy to do so. Why should we? Why should we cut parts of us to share with others? It wouldn't make any difference. Everyone is so busy. So sick. So sad. So suffocated to add another name to their mental list of people they barely know. But if it wouldn't make any difference, why shouldn't we just share tiny bits of us? We might be surprised. Yes... we might.
I see you there. You are playing with your hair and glancing at me every once in a while. When you turn to me, you give me that smile which makes me want to dive into you more than anything else in this world. But you always stop my imagination from going further. You are always like this. You make me wonder but then you push me away. What have I done to you? Why can you be so cruel yet so enchanting with your devilish smile? What's behind all these silent glances which shout more than words? Mere words. You are here. I see you just like this... Standing at the balcony, playing with your hair... And the moment you turn to me, it makes me realize you are never here. You were never at the balcony. At our long lost balcony.
We live an insatiable romance. Our appetites can never be satisfied. You always want more. More from me, more from the almost emptied heart which can barely hold me alive. You want more. You need more. And I've been giving it all to you. Almost.
"It's tough getting older."
13. Friday. Raining. Thunders. Perfect end of a long working week and a delightful start of a brief weekend (only a bit watery one). Some people complain about the heavy rain. Others are indifferent. And some are loving the occasional rain drops... Voluptuous transparent extra large sized H2O droplets. I'm dancing in the rain... I'm dancing in the rain... And soon I'll feel the pain and I'll never do it again.
