….and I was angry, I blamed You, for a lot of things. Oh, in the end, You treated me only as I allowed Thee to do. You showed me where all my clothes were placed and one last time you repeated that no one had ever held me here. And I just sat quietly and listened. I repeated to myself quietly: “what else does love look like, if not so?”. Not so.
Well, now I’m a princess again. Just a little stronger. And your street no longer hurts. And she’s foreign again. And you’re getting more and more alien. Although the idea that from now on life will look just like this is still somewhat uncomfortable. I come home, take off my shoes and everything here has been out of my mind for so long. My shoulders are covered with unbearable solitude, and that’s why I’m talking to an ever-full ashtray, a coffee pot and thickets that have settled on the bottom, with an orchid about to bloom, and with you – no. And with You everything is already spoken. And it was all said when we hadn’t even started talking. Maybe I could also tell you that over the years I am indeed very tired of You, and that I miss a little today, and that I am no longer angry. And that I remember very well the day we stopped to love each other. And she was indeed very old. But you’ve never been wondering. “And you shouldn’t care” -you would answer.
And at night he calls late, and talks me about harmony, balance and richness. Talk, don’t hang up, I could listen to You at night, but the bill ends, thoughts run out and, in the end, we’re over.
I didn’t think that I would want anything else, but today I wanted to put on high heels. And I put it on. And yet I want spring. That eerie shouting and heartbreaking. And to be independent, from what you will think and what you will do. And in general from nothing. Every night to kiss, and in the morning to leave. And in the end, when the chestnuts bloom, fall in love with an even bigger loser, and start another tasteless melodrama called “which is stronger?”. Because that’s probably why you want to live.
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