Recurrent frustrations and remembrance of a pain that was back then connected with you only. We no longer share a bed but our twitching moves still haunt each other's dreams.
And then, I try to define the smell of your skin and it's impossible; working memory overload.
I'm left with mental snapshots I took of you before I left, nothing trully romantic I'm afraid; you sitting at the balcony and gazing at the city underneath, silently rolling a cigarette for me, bathed in sunlight and interpol playing at the background, the perfect soundtrack. Or, a walk hand in hand in the cemetery before sunset, you talking of one thing or another, me listening; or holding on to you on the motorcycle while I begged for a little more speed, already ascending in happiness to land in despair.
I'm left with mental snapshots I took of you before I left, nothing trully romantic I'm afraid; you sitting at the balcony and gazing at the city underneath, silently rolling a cigarette for me, bathed in sunlight and interpol playing at the background, the perfect soundtrack. Or, a walk hand in hand in the cemetery before sunset, you talking of one thing or another, me listening; or holding on to you on the motorcycle while I begged for a little more speed, already ascending in happiness to land in despair.
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