Fingers through your hair
Breathing the same air.
Eyes deep in mine
It’s just a moment in time.
Loving each other when no one else can.
Sooner or later it all had to end.
Meant to be is not necessarily forever.
Me and you was quite the endeavour.
Time has come to take our separate ways.
Promise to remember all of the days.
The days you were mine.
The days we were more than aligned.
I’m almost ready to say goodbye.
I can’t live anymore in a lie.
Please don’t make me cry.
I have been trying to put my feelings into words,
not realising that what I was listening to was
saying it already. It’s not as sad as it looks like.
I recently sent myself on a journey to explore
my connection with water, which I could try
explaining but it would take too long and will
only confuse you more.
I never thought a had a thing with water, which
is ridiculous since my body is 80% water. Then a
friend told me that a negative connection is also
a sort of connection. I never looked at it in this way.
You know the phrase ‘like a fish out of water’?
I am like a fish out of water in water.
I can’t swim. I won’t drown. But not any better in it than a dog.
I can float, sort of. And I just let the current take me.
You are like crab, moving two steps to the right, then
one to left, so you never really get anywhere. I would
say it doesn’t matter if we were on the same wave,
then your steps would’t count. But you are still on the
beach while I am already in the deep.
You are like a jelly fish, which I want to catch but then
my hand would slip on your surface. I give up and try
to walk away and then your tentacles wrap around me.
You are mostly like a shark. Minding your own business,
quiet and far away. Until you taste that taste of blood and
appear. Unlike other sharks you spice me up and only
take a small bite.
Pain. And then I never see you again.
This thing I read the other day is completely
stuck in my head and boy, I have questions
and need to discuss. “The way you love is not
necessarily the same way other people love.”
Very simple and obvious but we, or maybe its
only me, seem to forget it all the time. Especially
when I am not loved the way I expect, I can
make it very difficult for myself.
I was always ready to be in love. Like literally
always. And I’ve been there. So often, I don’t
remember each and every one of them.
Back to the ways of loving. Question #1:
How long does it take before you realise you
are loved but just not in the way you know or
expect? Can you accept it? Should you accept
it? Even though real love does not ask questions,
lets not fool ourselves, there are questions.
So when do you draw the line and evaluate?
Or do you?
When do you accept the differences and how
many are allowed?
Passion over everything or not?
I am always ready to fall in love. Being ready
doesn’t mean I want to. Sometimes I want to
but they don’t. But it doesn’t matter how much
you want to, they don’t call it carefully sitting
down next to love but fucking falling in it.
So go ahead. Fall. I need to stand up first.
I was yours. Until a moment ago.
I lit my cigarette and I close my eyes for a second.
The last warm rays of sun are touching my skin,
however it’s freezing outside.
Open. You are gone.
I barely remember your blue eyes.
I remember running my fingers through your hair.
But I am me again. The me I was looking for. The me,
you took away. With your sweet words and soft fingers.
I am staying me for a bit.
On my right, there is a man, practically laying on the
ground. He’s asking the people around if someone
has a cigarette. Someone gave him one. I wasn’t really
looking, I even had my headphones in but he caught
my attention so I put my music down.
– How old are you? He was asking the students who
gave him the fag.
– We’re young.
– HAHA, Do you know how old I am, come on take a
The students didn’t say anything.
– Im 147. You are wondering how?! I don’t look that
old do I.
I wish I could turn around and look at their faces but
he probably would have dragged me into the
conversation as well, so I didn’t.
He kept going on how he was following the Gregorian
calendar and apparently he had a birthday 4 times a
year. Correct me if I am wrong, we all use that calendar.
I tried to keep my giggle inside and not make a sound.
He kept going. He had a guitar and even though he looked
homeless, he seemed pretty happy.
The students didn’t keep up with the conversation so after
another minute he stopped talking. He took his guitar and
started playing, enjoying his cigarette.
Apparently the Gregorian is almost right. Almost. It is,
however 27 seconds too long, so it is off by 1 day every
I wonder what was going on in this crazy head of his.