Easy

You were like the first breeze

After the hottest summer

On a summery afternoon

In a beach full of people.

I guess cliches did happen in real life

You saw me with those eyes

Your charm did work like magic

How many times had you worked with it I wonder?

You said the heart beats in a Morse code,

and you changed mine,

to your own rhythm

in exactly the same steps it took for you to leave when pain arrived.

I remember waking up and finding everything

smeared in raindrops of grief.

It had been raining all night.

Grief sat in front of me like a parasite, again.

It had a mournful sound.

When everyone is too arrogant to feed it,

I’m blindly kind.

So, I walk on the edge of nostalgia,

with a bucket full of memories,

and my shadow walks drunk.

Now, you call me and say,

“I’m sorry, I had to let go.”

You smell odd of rum and loneliness

as grief lingers behind.

Listen, I know grief, I know its nature.

For I’ve been born to a mother who left

and taught me how hatred in a beautiful way,

can be turned into a verb.

Don’t feed it if you don’t have a purpose,

because evidently,

grief without a purpose is just tragedy.

You convince me that we had a ‘maybe in another life’ kind of love.

But I don’t mind,

arriving in every existence tinted with a tender sacrifice,

cursed with nurturing the grief of everyone I love.

Even when something in me knows,

you didn’t leave because you had to,

you left because

it was easy.

A.D.

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