this one goes out to the 1 i love

You were late, as always. I was waiting in our corner and you arrived half an hour later, in your black tight suit, looking tired, as always. The blooming almond trees painted the pavement pink and you complained about the pollen. You never liked spring. It was easier to get high without the disturbing sun. You hugged me and I could feel you quivering, despite the warm weather. It is kind of funny how those honest eyes could tell such beautifull lies…

You told me you had something to do, as always, it would only take a few minutes. And I just stand there, waiting. I knew and you knew it, but you would never admit it. How much you loved those fucking trips, “your ticket to fly beyond the pretension of morality”. Sometimes, when you were stoned, you used to cry, devastated of contrition but you never faced up to reality. It was your alibi of defense against your alter ego, a way to keep it real, or even pretend to do so.

You never returned from that trip. It must have been a great one. I miss you, I constantly miss you. Sometimes I wish I had taken that trip with you. Maybe we could wander together, around our broken dreams and forgotten promises.  Or not, I will never know. All I know, is that you left me here, alone, waiting. And I am just standing here, while time is passing and causes me deep scars.  And it s spring again, the almond trees are blooming, as always. Here I am, still looking for a simple prop, to occupy my time…

This one goes out to the one I loved.

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