Going home because it hurts.
It hurts to be going home.
Like the end of a holiday.
You don’t want to leave.
You want to keep on dreaming that life can be that nice.

I wish to be that special one that always brings you joy.
Like a summer at the beach.
Like a sparkling eye contact in the morning lying next to each other.

Instead we sparkle after an Irish coffee and I leave after a brief vacation.
Packing up my stuff.
It wasn’t always easy without any stress or pain.

It was magical nonetheless and so I can only kiss you and say: I love you, see you, I will miss you.
I’ll try to get through the days and nights just to see you again.
For a nice little short summer trip of love, headaches and wild sparkles. With my dark make up rubbing on your face.

A messy funny night, a messy heavy day, a messy painful morning and a night of pressure, some sleeping and some sun and rain.