I touch the cold screen that draws you instantly
It is as dirty as your real face would be if I touched it now
I do not try hard, my fingers can easily imagine the textures
Your warm, young and soft skin
The thin layer of your hair
Your thick beard hanging from your chin
I can see your eyes closing as I lower my hand all the way down to your lips
Then, the smoky breath coming out of your mouth
Passing through my fingers to break free forever
I stare at you and you at me like we used to
Long minutes
As if I discovered something different second after second
Nothing but a photo
Everything since you were gone
Witness music: Station by Lapsley.
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario