(NOT) THE END

Would you believe me if you saw me now? Would you be able to trust me again? For the last time? After all the 'goodbyes' and 'good lucks' I proclaimed?

Would you dare to remember the evening when I told you I run away? Not too far. Stepping into my shadow, into the necessity of the breath. I guess you don't. You missed the class when they taught there are those who stay. That was the class before the one where they passed on the wisdom of the lines of suffering. The lines that are similar to those of your palm, mapping the destiny, some believe.

But would you have the courage to believe in me if you saw me again?

Where we were, where we used to collide is now only these lines I am pouring out. Bravely, and stupidly. Sleeping alone. I believe that even if you are not sleeping alone in your bed or sleeping on my side trying to saver the last of my smell that I left on the left pillow, you are disagreeing with the world. You must, I need you to.

I know I leave pieces of myself behind, not to haunt you, but so I'd be lighter for the wind to take me places. So I'd exclaim 'I am alive' outside your eye-lids that you shut so hard while holding your groin. With all your might holding onto the lines of my body.

For whatever is going to be our closing paragraph, and whoever is going to be a fallen hero, after all the remembering, shoulds and coulds, after all is changed... it is the first day of my life. I am going to believe. I must. I need to.