Sometimes I feel like everything is an illusion.
And the thoughts are filling out notebooks I didn’t even knew I still have. All these memories brought back to me by a simple smell or sound, seem like something from a movie I saw a long time ago. But I still think about you in every scene, and that whole life I had with you that I still miss. You know those mornings with the sun scratching my back and the soft cigarette smoke floating around? Or the cozy roads and routes I knew so well, with the sound of the city waking up and the cheap coffee warming up my hands. Or thoughts of you warming me up. The random plans with new people we barely met in the park, those days when you were trying to teach me how to play the guitar, and the ones in which we were staying inside because I just wanted to write a song. Long talks over bottles of wine, watching the cars moving so fast and wishing to be in every airplane we counted from the rooftop of the building. The wind whistling around while we share a cigarette on the side of the lake. Or those brutally honest words and kisses that were sending shivers all over our bodies, burning harder than the sunset skies. And your touch. Hard breath on my neck. Fingers intertwined. Souls combined and same heart beating. Am I romanticizing the past? I know I tend to do that when here and now are not good enough anymore. But I can’t romanticize the regret,can I? I wish I never left. The ashtray is now full of washed out promises and memories. And your name. Why can’t it disappear? And when are you coming back?
Sometimes I feel like everything is an illusion. Everything besides you.