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Wherever we went we bought our wine and wineglasses from a market, made love wherever possible, never missed newly released movies, and he used to send me armfuls of flowers. Love multiplies, excitement wears off, responsibilities stand on shoulders in the mass, loss fear doubles. Because there are lives at the end of the road… Lives that are likely to go downhill… I miss the hullabaloo fight in the streets in which we involved even the traffic cops, the butterflies I got in my stomach when he popped the question, the first night we slept together. I seek the taste and smell of the first times, however; when the alarm clock goes off every morning I miss the man who should be by my side with his lips curled.
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- 21 Juni 2011 14:22
