That’s nowhere close to where I used to be. New beginnings that end old ideas never seen through.
So I call on some old friends and put the radio on. It hits me softly (like a wave by the shore that’s just out of reach) that, maybe, it could be true, just maybe, that the sky can crack and find a way back.
But, till then, I’ll have to hold on to the smallest imperfection of your skin. I’ll try to move slowly backwards in time, reach the place when we were just lovers lying in the eye of the storm.
Until then, I’ll have to move somewhere that’s not here.