Forget me not…
“…Sending you forget me nots To help me to remember…” Patrice Rushen Friday evening. I’m sitting on the gigantic stone wall that faces the sea. The echoes generated by the water waves falling slowly on the wall, reach down my soul. I pull out the green lighter, with a “Peace” cigarette on my mouth. After a couple of tries, the lighter finally produces a beam of fire. It’s the lighter she gave me. I inhale deeply. Yeah. I guess, it’s going to be one of those nights. How long does it take to forget someone? That has been the preferred topic of poets, forever. Personally, I’m unable to forget. Inside me, all the fire repeats itself. In me, nothing is extinct nor forgotten. Like a poem by Neruda. Yet, I have discovered that once I write, I can get over the memory and...
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I was right back then. Remember? I told you that all that will remain will be the memory of the time we loved. I thought deeply about it, that night. Looking into the distance from the 9th floor window, I knew it was over. I had spent all day looking at the ashes you left behind, together with the faded lipstick on the remaining filters of the cigarettes you smoked, wondering about the meaning of everything. We had screamed “forever wild” many times, walking under the moon light, but only now I understand the meaning. You called me “Mr. Moon”. You knew how much I loved our night walks. I lived for them. 8 years is a long time. I’m man enough to admit that sometimes I think about you. Where are you now? Are you lost? It seems like you never found a way out of my...
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