A Day at the Museum
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Tickets, please. The Waltz Their hands…weaved together…their bodies in the dance…their bodies rely on each other. I miss you. I miss when we could rely on each other. Us. A world in the world. When we sang together and you missed the words. And we laughed together. For nothing. For the joy of being…us. Us. Our world. The first time I saw you, you were sitting on a bench, listening to music, looking around with your inquisitive, curious, bright eyes, sipping the fresh air of the beginning of spring. It could seem that you were using music to isolate yourself from the external. But it was exactly the contrary, music helped you to concentrate, to register every detail, of the life which was surrounding you. Music is the only thing that helps me, that fills the void left by our voices. Our voices are no more interested in entertaining us. I still remember your laugh, when I stumbled, distracted by you, the air was so clear, and laughing with you seemed the most natural thing to do. Our first action together. There is silence even when we speak now. We comment the news, we speak of someone else's lives because we are scared of us. I miss you so much. I miss our voices, raised to defend our views. I like when you fight for your ideas. I am no longer interested in your opinion. I don't want anymore to know what you think…. The Kiss The first time we kissed… The first time we kissed… I was scared. I wasn't sure, but I couldn't resist. I had to know. I had to know how you felt. And the shape of your lips was -IS- p-e-r-f-e-c-t. Kissing you gives me space. Feeling you creates room when I am trapped in a narrowing space. your arm was gently resting on my side. Exactly as in this sculpture. In your touch there was the promise of a life together. I don't remember the last time we kissed. I don't remember the last time we kissed. We must learn each other again. It is not anymore OUR time. Our time can't be over. We had to stop. We had to talk about our feelings. About the feelings we were able to make together...But we can still do it. It will make us suffer but if we suffer…if we suffer it means that we still feel, we still feel for each other. I do feel for you. My love. I do feel for you. I have the right to feel again. I want to feel lightness, I want to laugh for a silly message, I want to write a silly message, I want to joke, I want to smile at the idea of coming back home to see…to see…someone….who is happy to share a life with me. I have the right to live. I don't want to exist anymore. The sky is grey. But it is good, Christmas is approaching. We will have time to be ourselves again. The sky is iron. It will be an icy Christmas. |
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