A Bus Stop

When I speak of him, imagine a quiet young man, driving his ways through the loud town. The windows of his car are down and the sound of his rap songs, that I never heard of, are joining the winds and he is enjoying his time.

He has messy hair and a sharp cut beard, he is tall and he wears that damn black leather jacket, my biggest weakness. He goes through his hair with his one hand and the other one on the steering wheel. 

He watches the skyscrapers pass by and he smiles to that little boy in the other car, when the traffic light turns red, and the cars stop around him. 

He is happy, he doesn’t miss me. It’s all gone. His ‘everything’ was temporary, and it hurt me permanently. There is nothing I could do. I watched him leave, and I slowly let go. 

He is that sparkling glitter that landed in my hands, and the wind blew it all away. Know that glitter can get very sticky, and it still remains on your hands. That’s all his memories, and that part is burning on my flesh, and all that I still have of him. 

I sunk in my own and fell on my knees. I looked down and closed my eyes. Tears didn’t even fall. There was nothing left, not even a way out. I got stuck in my emptiness, the emptiness caused by his absence. 

He is that sweet lullaby sung to babies when they can’t sleep. That lullaby remains like a mark in their heads, because they grow up with it, and will sing it whenever they hear the sound of it. 

That lullaby put me to sleep, and I imagine him singing me himself with his rough voice and putting my insomniac self to sleep. He was a sponge that could soak up all my tears in a millisecond, and would never let it out on me. 

When he left, he threw that sponge at me with an immense force, and all there was and is, was emptiness. My nights became sleepless once again and my dark eyebags were covered in tears. 

His icy heart was enough to freeze me too, and I was dedicated towards the cold. He was never in the wrong, for as he could lift my pain like no one else ever could. 

When I speak of him, I speak out of passion, and yet, after all this describing, none of you would ever know how he did make me feel. 

I am on this bus, that takes me no where that I know and I feel lost, damn lost. I am nervous as I look at the streets, because I can’t recognize them. I am afraid and I struggle to breathe. 

I don’t know where my stop is. When will it finally be enough for me? I am scared and I want to escape from this horrible transport, in which I am getting dragged with a terrible fast speed, without knowing where I am. 

Slowly, I do remember my paths and I sigh out of relief. Although these paths are not where I will get out, because this is the description of me before I met him. I will not get out now. I want to remember him. I want to remember who he was and what he did to me. 

I won’t blame him, but I’ll remember him for the goddamn precious human being he was. I won’t say I love him; but I’m in love with his existance. He shall stay. 

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