In Your Sticky Leather Armchair
Shared by the reckless romantic.
In my memory it’s 5 am in the morning of a high peak summer day, when nothing can be done to avoid the heat. I am sitting in your big leather armchair and try to breathe whilst watching you sleep. I am wondering if you still dream of her? Is she the one whose face you want to see when you open your eyes? Do your hands still remember the lines of her body when you touch mine? Should I dress like her? Should I use the same lipstick? It might make my kisses feel sweeter for you to taste.
My mind is filled with all the doubt, that all I can ever have is the pieces of your heart. That’s all she left behind when she broke it between her perfectly manicured hands. When she walked away your world tumbled and crushed and probably you still think of the reasons why she tossed you away like a last year’s collection. She left you, she is gone forever and you still gaze into the air at sleepless nights. I only know that because even the rhythm of your breathing is echoing her name. I force my eyes to be closed and listen until my heart breaks. Every single night. I am all you got, you have my everything but you just can’t see me. I am just her shadow here.
I’m stuck in this life like I am stuck in this chair. I feel that my tights are glued to the leather with the sweat of this ugly summer and all the fear that leaves me anxious. I live here next to you in denial and I act out our life perfectly. Tell me that one day I will earn with my crazy fight for you, to wake up on a morning finding you sitting here. In this chair, wishing for my dreams to be about you. I know I will and I know that on that day I’ll be already gone.
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