Hello. Goodbye.

Morning comes. But a part of me is waking up. The little fragment that didn’t mind this night of no sleep. A night of firsts. A night of some self-imposed strong decisions. Whose love is it anyway?

Not yours nor mine for sure. Not hers or his- the two that do not exist. Except in glimpses of the past. Flow down cold feelings. On a foggy, long winding road. They stop and kiss under the street light.

Whose love is it anyway?
What if the mocking bird won’t sing again? What if the souls that got stuck in the sticky warm night- never managed to unglue- even after death?

The cold did not scald my skin- as much as your touch did. But my heart- I left somewhere on those cold rocks. Some other day- perhaps I may find it.

Those lucky crossroads, skinned knees, bruised elbows and this slow settling feeling. That if you hug me here, the next turn will be better.

Some one who thought new me rather well tried analysing my handwriting yesterday.
This 'someone', I must add is absolutely certain that she has me understood and sorted out in the past 9 months or a little more that she has known me.
She said that I was NOT a spend thrift. Alternatively I was also willing to pay EXACTLY what the item was worth.
She said that I was properly and neatly egotistic. I sat apparently on top of the ego fence and dangled my nice heels.
I ALSO didn't have a double self- I was what I was- straight in your face.
However, I did keep things inside.
I could be a team leader AND a team player.
I didn't hang on to things in the past and I was willing to let go.

Clearly.

No one has been more right about my ego.
And SO wrong about my past.