La Boheme

I drove back home, after I've dropped you off
You apologized for the trouble, as usual
Said that you will make it up one distant day
When you get your own means
And I said it was a pleasure, as usual
With a smile
Seems that I don't smile often because
I spend them all on you

Hey, what would I do when you are gone ?

What you don't know is that my heart flutters
When we spend these moments together
What you don't know is that I get lost on purpose
Miss exists and take longer routes, with frequent signals
Suddenly crave tea on the other part of town
To buy us extra time
For our time is running out
What you don't know is that I knew all along
That these moments were counted
That they are gone for good, and we took them for granted
Mid conversation, I'd recall
That you were preparing me
For your withdrawal
Since we met
What you don't know, is that I've been brooding for months
After you told me you wanted to leave
Caught in a vortex :
To be happy for you
To be envious of you
To be unhappy without you
To be hopeful because there is still fire within you
To fall into despair
Because we won't talk like this
Anymore

What would I do when you are gone ?

In a while too short
You will be no longer
And I'll truly
Truly

Truly



Be alone

All these plans for the future
The careless laughter
Your words like almond
Smiles like flowing water
Will rise and mix with the evening sighs
In a while ,too short
The magic of small things that I've regarded so high
Would turn to umber
And I won't be making beautiful things
With you any longer
I wrote about you, you know
And these roses I've aligned unto my lines
Unsent
Undelivered
What would I do when they start to whither
Lose the color of their petals and the sprouts of their zeal
Long drives in the dark
When you don't care for the end
Have lost their appeal
The veins in my hands were frozen red
As I held unto my cone, with the largest scoop
A chilled snake was climbing up my spine
And my heart was quiet
The reel of our conversations was playing in my head
Windows smudged to blindness

My dull gaze fixed at the void

And numbness started to creep

Up the curls of my earlobes 

Painted by the sleepless lights
Of the yawning city

Montmartre seemed sad

And the Lilacs were dead.