Six in the morning I took the Metro. I have never been to that place nor have met any of them. I just told myself that I need to getaway. There were about fifteen strangers and two others like me. A feather floating by and waiting for the wind to take me. The desert was hot but not as hot as I had expected. The lights on their faces were enough to convince me that everything is going to be alright.
I stood there for a couple of minutes which felt like eternity. And the flashes of colors somehow changed how I used to feel. The morning sun became a haze of smoke and eventually to rain. And when it touches my skin I couldn't feel anymore better. They felt like tears.
They changed my face and twisted my body in small packages of glamour. And when I looked at the girl in the mirror she just came back to life.
I was exhausted for the day and took the longest bath.
When evening fell I think about you. It's not the French guy nor the Italian. They sing to my ears and they dance like midnight train. But I don't have anything left to feel. I chose to be cold for a while. To stop feeling there's something more. Keep my distance and preserve me.
Maybe you don't know that. I shouldn't tell-- that , I miss everything about you.
How your hair falls to your face, and your eyes, the kindest that I have ever seen.
In all the faces of the strangers I meet every day, you left a mark and hoping that someday you will find me.
No comments:
Post a Comment