continued from Chance hearts (Part 2)
I’ve given up. Listened to my brother and moved to London last month. The familiar streets from my childhood surround me. Everyone is moving fast in this big city, like whirlwhinds on the streets, hardly noticing much else other than the road to their next destination.
Am I the only one who wishes that everyone would, for once, go slow? Take your time and savour things, I feel like saying. I was so in over my own head that I did not realise when I was falling in love, or to soak up those moments with his hand in mine. Now all I have are these memories that are starting to blur around the edges; the feel of his skin against mine, faded into oblivion.
I wish I had taken Pablo Neruda seriously and kept quiet. If I hadn’t told him lies about myself, so he wouldn’t look at me with sympathy, we wouldn’t have fought, and I would still have him by my side.
I look up at the moon from the balcony of my new apartment, breathing in and out deeply as if to bring life into myself. I’m sorry, my love. I have moved on, but not away. I still hope against the reality of this big world that you will find me again. Until then, I miss you. I’m sorry.
I wonder if the moon sends messages.
To be continued…
References mentioned: Keeping Quiet – a poem by Pablo Neruda