Seasons are changing. The wind blows stronger, it’s a blurry mess out there. My life is a distraction. Yours is a masterpiece. I keep busy trying to remember last month, the twelve months past, the five years gone. I will never forget summers at home.
But mostly it’s difficult to just wait without noticing.
So many fools claiming to love, to want love, to be in love. Without being loved back. Don’t we all stay a little foolish, until we are?
And even maybe after that too.
How does it taste? Your words. The ones you tried to hide. The ones you can’t escape. Eat them up, eat them up clean. There are jagged edges you cannot consume. They cut your throat going down. After all it’s not so hard to say you’re sorry.
But it is, if you knew you were that much wrong.
There are wars to fight. The days are long and weary, it drains us dry. My heart can be your pillow.
He liked to send me stars.
Check your mailbox, he would say.
I left a star for you.
