i loved him
and sometimes he loved me.
there was always the wind at the window
like a sad song
accompanying his mood swings
there was always the same moon towards we both decided to look at in the same time
with its shadows
and fears
and hopes.
there was always the bitter sound of his steps on the carved stone
that spread into my veins like a poison:
"he will be gone for good someday..."
and his laughter
an enough reason for me to smile
almost graciously
and his promise that time never runs against us but with us
and the warmth of his hands....
there was always the wind at the window
like a strange song
accompanying my mood swings.
song
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It's raining outside.
Although the promise of an early spring, the winter does not want to go away. Outside my window, everything seems diffuse and gray. So sad. Like history that you've just finished telling me.
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