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,
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.