Tonight, I won’t write about love. No, not tonight. Tonight I will write about the silent sky and the moon, that on his chest he holds. I will write about this fog that got my city strangled just like a tight rope. Tonight, I will write about my garden and the frozen flowers there that show me that death is a sight to behold. Tonight, I will write about life and death and how fast this fleeting life goes.
But, when I looked down just like on every other night tonight, I again, on the spread page “I miss you” wrote.*
Inspired by the great Pablo Neruda – “Tonight I can write the saddest lines”