Le Fou

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You won’t remember any more about the pain, the dread, the hours crying out of nowhere, the sleepless nights, the pain in your chest, the physical pain, the emotional pain, about all the songs that hurt you so much
You won’t remember any of it
Time will pass and everything that will remain are the good memories, the things that are so good when they are not devastating

The little smiles, the silence when you want to say something you can’t describe in words, you can not use any words in any language because everything seems so small in comparison to the feelings your heart is producing

And you’ll miss it when in some afternoon, some late afternoon, you are reading Italian poetry and you just miss the feeling of being loved. Of that time when everything was possible, and even when everything was falling apart you were quite happy or at least quite delightful with your life because you had someone who was there for you at that right moment in time and space

Even if eventually you discover they are not there anymore and they choose not to be there.
To continue to be there. And yeah, I mean the hurt is awful but time will pass.

When you are sober, in the sense that your feelings do not consume you, you’ll know it is okay to breathe again. You can breathe again.
You can, you know?
Go to sleep.
Go shopping for books.
You can reread poetry without crying. You can listen to music without dying.
And you can even dream about being in love again because you miss the feeling of warmth and affection.

And you think, okay, this next time I will be a better lover. I will be a better person for the next person who wants to share their life with me. I will open my mouth more. Even when I don’t know the words. I will just say whatever comes to mind. I will be more open to the feeling. I will be more.
I will be more
Whatever more is that
I will discover with my new lovers
My new lovers, yeah

It is one lazy Wednesday when you discover that, and then everything will make sense to you, and just like that you will forget about it again,
And go back to dreaming and crying and wanting to die because, you know, you still miss them