Good morning! I brought you flowers. Will you offer me a cup of coffee with saucer and hug?
Brrr! So cold!
No, not in your arms. The coffee without soul and hugging is sad and bitter. You poured coffee in two cups. Why two? One had no taste. The other had no sense. You were the one giving me the taste. The sense would have been given by us. A Cuckoo clock is what I would have needed, older than me, to tender all alone my lately nights. You giggled gently, so feminine that even the angels of Armageddon would have stopped their trumpets of black and macabre, for a while. „Have you missed me?” Strangely beautiful voice. If you’d kiss me, I couldn’t love anyone else anymore. They would feel even your taste on my lips, and would be jealous. That’s why I’m telling myself I won’t kiss you, while my lips silky touch yours.
Here, in your arms, you transformed a simple person into an immortal. Until I got to you, I was listening evening after evening: “At the next beep, the exact hour will be… too late!”. Ah, doctor, my life aches, you know? Because the outside world is so devoided of hope that my inner life is twice as precious. They hate me because I’m not like them, I love them ’cause they are not like me. And together…
Nothing.
Once again, I poured coffee in two cups…
Șoapte...
Tags: hugs, love, youth without old age
