One of my most vivid memories of us is that one time we were on the phone and you told me you felt uneasy because,  your friend Morgan said that everyone changes.

She said no one ever stays the same,  and with enough time, you'll become a whole new person.

You said this to me warily, I guess I stood quiet for more than I should've because you then softly muttered "are you gonna change?"

Of course I swore I wouldn't.  And I meant it.  I really meant it when I said I wouldn't change.  WE wouldn't. It'd always be like this.
Late night talks on the phone,  exploring the universe within our own minds,  opening every door and walking in every aisle inside each other, carefully peeking into the cracks in the walls and kissing them better.  

That night you said that you loved me so much,  you felt the need to open the window and shout it at the whole world. You wanted all Paris to hear it.

If it was true love, how could it change?

Laying against you in bed felt right.  Like we had grooves and keys carved into our bodies that aligned us together perfectly, like it was supposed to be like this.

It felt like we were the lucky ones.  The lucky two that, against all the odds, found each other in the sea of hearts of the world.  

But the years went by as they do

And slowly the fire started to cool down

We memorized the way in and out of the labyrinth of our bodies.

Weirdly, the grooves and keys that snuggled us so closely together before,  didn't seem to fit all that well anymore.

We didn't realize that time had put new cracks on our walls.

Some doors were closed and others were opened. I guess We were lazy to remap the whole thing,  or maybe we didn't even notice.  

But we kept walking the same way in and out every time. It grew... Tideous.

Without me realizing, you stopped shouting your love for me to Paris.
And When I turned my head and looked behind, it seemed like it was just a faint whisper.
After that, all I could hear was the echo.

To be honest,  I was mad for a long time.  Thinking that you let everything die. That our hands didn't fit together like they used to because you didn't care to make it right.

But Lately I'm thinking that, it's not that you didn't care. It's not that I did something wrong. It's surely not a matter of true love, because it was.  
No,  we didn't let it die

We just... changed.

I guess Morgan was right.

wisps of smoke rise like prayers
to the sky

may hope overcome fear and hate
in the darkest of nights

i pray for you my friend who feel lost and alone
may you find your way home

She had a tongue that could open a wine bottle.
Razor-sharp articulation.
A fine art, some might say.
Living sentences on a knifes-edge.
It started in a unblunted manner,
The force hit smacked splintered minds like a hammer.
Honed in cuspate motions,
Incisively smashing the nail on the head.

She wasn’t wrong often.
Vivacious wit vivid oscillating witch,
some might say.
Not I.
I followed in the downstream of her resonance.
A quivering wreck,
soaked from head to toe in her libretto.

She marched in stilettos,
locomotive tip-toe motion,
devotion to the traverse.
Deviating as s he ambulated across lurid cobbled paths.
How she manages, alas.
Evades my comprehension.

She had this brunt agitation,
as if,
she couldn’t hear the words you say to her.
Maybe it was her nescient nature.
A think naive conversant,
If only it was that simple.
Those dimples on her cheeks were like craters in the moon.
That cheesy laugh fractures.

She escaped from Alcatraz,
Caught only by the dereliction,
of her minds conviction.
Infamy lapsed,
as she collapsed in a pretzel of marvellous contortion.
She radiantly turned to stone,
a statuesque stanza.
Cloned in allure,
that never found answers she was looking for.

A long whsispered monologue
Curling up in a ball
The fresh air of winter morning
Sleeping with the lights on
A first and final passionate kiss
Tip toeing down a hallway
Conversations at twilight
Eating chicken wings with nothing to clean your hands
Searching for lost treasure.
Waiting for the rain to come.
Watching a snowflake melt into water.
The first crop of the season.
When somebody hands your wallet in,
And the money still in it.
Reconnecting with old school friends.
Visiting foreign shore and ancient city's.
Building a business, building a brand.
A trip to the Tate national.
The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan and Neil Young,
For starters.
When the night won't seem to end.
The sound of your voice in the morning.
Breakfast in bed, fresh coffee
In a wide open space.
*For all those times I took you for granted.