Misty November nights. The burning end of a late-night cigarette, the almost-empty glass of wine, the heavenly smell of I don’t know what kind of fancy cheese. All for one reason.
Cheers to my beloved. The one who moved me, the one who swept me off my feet, the one who made me happy, but also, the one who stabbed me…not in the back, but right in the heart.
Here’s to you, the one I would think of when I looked at the stars, the one I would think of when I went to bed, the one I would think of when I poured my coffee in the morning. But also, the one I would think of when I drank..
and drank heavily.
My love, it’s one of those nights when I’m completely alone. I’m alone, lacking comfort, lacking love, lacking warmth. It’s one of the nights that I would share with a cup of alcohol just to get you off my mind.
The years passed by and now, again, it’s just one of those nights… One cigarette led to the other, then my lungs started giving up, and so did my liver. My entire mechanism is shutting down, and I must say, it is less painful than when we moved apart.
My love, one last thing. I just wish we could go back to when we ran in the streets in the rain, when we would play catch with kids and watch them cry whenever they lost, when we went to Starbucks for some coffee and just talked about life, when you came over and we shared some good snacks. When we sat together to watch a movie until you’d place your head on my lap and fall asleep. But now, I’m afraid it’s too late.