He kicked the night and the sky was bruised. With an inclination towards anxiety, he kept himself away from everybody. I visited his house and looked at the old clothes, i thought he likes holding on to bad memories, not realising that they can't hurt him anymore.. I could smell old tobbacco, leather and i sniffed white confidence on the broken mirror.
The rain began to knock the window like an unwanted neighbour. I said, " I want to sit with you in silence". I could read his face : "My sleepy hollow man"... He was endlessly looking for a gun to finish the battles inside his head. In the morning we ate the sun and had candyfloss smiles.
Now i`m listening to Tom Waits, hiding my tears while I chop the onion.
I carry his heart in my pocket. He doesn't know about my secret prayers, which i sing in the dark woods..."It's never too late, never too late to start again, they are only holding you back, stop counting black wild cats..."
Created: Jul 15, 2012ola_szmidt Document Media