You have been offline for an entire day.
You are kissing another girl,
I just know it.
You are caressing her soft hair,
you are getting rid of her silk underwear,
you are loving her on your bed,
wrapped in the sheets that once covered our bodies.
You are falling in love with her,
no,
you are already in love with her.
You are going to abandon me.

My heart shrinks and I can't breathe.
Why, why couldn't you love me?
Why couldn't it be me?
You are going to abandon me
as soon as you turn on your phone.
Maybe I should abandon you first,
maybe I should disappear,
maybe this way it would hurt less.

Then you are online again,
you say "Henlo" with the "n"
as you always do,
and I'm waiting for you to tell me about the girl,
that you are sorry,
that you didn't mean to.

But you tell me your battery died
and that you collapsed drunk on your friend's bed
and that you miss me.

Suddenly, I can breathe again.
You didn't abandon me.
But that sneaky thought is still in the back of my head:
you didn't abandon me yet.
But you will.

Finally the storm comes crashing against my inner walls.
The wind howls, like a pack of a thousand wolves thirsty for revenge, for blood, for tender meat to sink their teeth into. Flash - lightnings, black and white dots of an old television, nails scratching on a blackboard, a dry throat, run, girl! Fast! Let all this tangled mess of nerves, confusion, boiling anger and tearing pain stop, let it stop, run! Faster! with the tumtum of your footsteps echoing in your skull like a death march - is it sweet? - with the sweat dipping from your temples, following the curves of your cheeks, impacting - plic - on the soil - soil? Mud, sticky mud that glues to your feet, to your ankles - is it even raining? Why is everyone shouting why are my ears bleeding the only thing I want is *******  -

Silence.
On this balcony.
With a cigarette in my hand, with Wish You Were Here in the air, with thoughts of you filling my mind. With your voice whispering in my ears you're the most wonderful person I’ve ever known.
Silence.
With my fingertips tracing the arch of your eyebrow, with my back pressed on the grass. With my hair following the air flow, while I’m riding a stolen bike, while my arms are circling your figure.
Silence.
Because my heart is quiet when I remember you. When I wasn’t just a reservoir for ***, cuddles or warmth, when my aim wasn’t just to support, to soothe, to calm down.
Silence.
Because I had a value. Because I was a person as a whole, from head to toe, from the very last tip of my blue locks to the smooth white tip of my black Converse.
Silence.
How I wish you were here.

What’s the point
in dressing a fake plastic tree with warm lights and shiny *****,
in wrapping up perfumes, candles and strawberry-scented shower gels,
in exchanging smiles and Merry-something
with that family friend who has been knowing you since you were born
and who has taught you how to tie your shoes,
with that girl who was your best friend when you were fifteen,
who shared with you the first Lucky Strikes
and who used to wipe your cheeks
when your black make-up left wet trails.
What’s the point
if you cannot wrap up a warm wool sweater
or some after-shave lotion
or ties, socks, gloves
or whatever you feel like wrapping up
for your dad.