Toast & Smoked Salmon

It's a day of lazy thoughts. Of slow smiles and a content heart. The one which has nothing to complain about, no one to point fingers at. The colour is red. Like a red red rose which I never received. I woke up to an empty house, like a quiet mouse. And I am carrying a bit of sleep around with me as I tiptoe through familiar paths of that which cease to exist. It's a day of beautiful poetry, poignant words, heart wrenching images lost in the absurd. And then there is passionate music, breaking all the rules. Only know that you have been high when you are feeling low, only hate the road when you have been missing home. It's the kind of day where you have screamed till the words dried out and now there is nothing left to say, to feel.

Breakfast of toast and smoked salmon. I let the stickiness be washed away with the lukewarm coffee. I let the smokiness disappear as I watched the crumbs fall. Every morning is like the one before and everybody needs someone to adore. I am counting on you, oh oh baby say you will. Oh oh baby, be my thrill.. And smile at the faint beauty I radiate only when I am alone, surrounded by all that I love. I wish you could understand, understand the pain in silent suffering. And the relief, in complicated confessing. Be my youth, my kissing booth, my sweet tooth, my beauty and truth. Be my thrill, if it isn't too much to ask for.

I want to write these words for you. About the lovely time we had, before you left. And I want to feel that blushing embarrassment when you find out that the words is about you. Watch you sit up a little straighter and smile your charming smile at me as you try not to look too pleased with yourself. Watch you ask me if I write for every guy I fall head over heels for, I want to look you in the eye and laugh in mock confirmation. I want to be nonchalant when I say, "Oh yes of course. What do you think, that I wrote these just for you? Are you nuts?"

I love your sad tenderness, when I have hurt you. That's one of the reasons I could never be sorry for our quarrels, and they bothered you so. Those dear, dear little fusses, when I always tried so hard to make you kiss and forget..But I concur, at the thought of you. And my eyes crinkle with the kind of happiness which can only be felt, not shared. It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. And I think about how they all look the same, their eyes down, their steps hurried, just waiting for a sunny day while I wait for it to rain.

When I am with you, we (try to) stay up all night,
When you are not here, I can't get to sleep.
Praise God for these two insomnias!
And the difference between them.

- Rumi