February 26th

The more I listen to you sing, the more I forget what your voice sounds like.

I listen to the lyrics but I forget your words and your intonation.

I remember your figure as well as all your gestures.

I can still see your eyes and the shape of your lips.

I can still see your hands, I can feel them in mine.

I can feel your coarse skin.

I remember your shape but I forget the features of your face.

I remember the light but the smell and the heat are fading.

I can picture us sitting on the ground.

I remember the tea, the cast iron teapot.

I remember the plants and the music.

I remember the hot water which made us numb.

I remember the sky going by above our heads and making you dizzy.

I remember the nights, all the nights but I can't hear your voice anymore, nor can I read your words.

The poetry withers.

You live a life in which I can't enter.

I remember a dream which has existed, has just ended and seems to have taken place a hundred years ago.

Have I slept that long ?

I have many doubts.

You closed the door and I put an end to us.

I'm not trying to understand but I miss writing to you so I go on.

You'll never know how much you inspire me.

Now I invent you because you're gone. You're not here anymore, nor is your ghostly presence.

You're gone for good.

And I still don't know whether you were real.