carry on, darling
okay i’ll leave.
because we don’t live here anymore.
the existence of an attempt gone out the window after three bubbles came after 245 seconds.
you aren’t quite sure what i mean.
but our histories still live in the seafood restaurant down on 3rd street.
an empty seat of a person who went for a cigarette and never came back.
i’ll let them play with their hands, he probably thought.
can these two be love birds?
two men behind me questioned the same thing, but i don’t think so.
four days in, and i told my friends i see no future here.
one of them questioned it but two agreed.
i didn’t want to say it in case i jinx it and you like him longer, one of the girls said.
i trust her with my whole life and i actually did agree.
but keep the trace of your hands on my forehead and i’ll keep the scent of mine in your hair.
it’s not that dry after all.
don’t forget to use the treatment i told you about.
i stopped and i questioned everything even though i foreseen this.
why do i feel a bit sad.
was it sorta too soon, i asked myself.
and even if i’m gone from you then maybe 3 months from now i’ll be in your inbox again.
sending you 24 frames per second of a short evening on the beach.
do you remember this?
this is you snapping 1 frame out of 24 milli seconds while i record you 24 times of the same second on a moving celluloid.
maybe in a dream you wish i was cooler.
and that same night i wish you were smarter.
i don’t think i’ll exit your life.
but maybe just for now i’ll take a darker patch down the road without your smile.
i make works better when i’m unhappy.
what a misery choice of career i chose for myself.
i’ll be melancholic about our possibilities and then tell myself how i would get bored of you.
hope you think of me sometimes.
i’ll still talk about you in my sleep.
just won’t tell you about it, that’s all.
maybe i’ll meet you at a bar sometimes in the city after a year.
© Bo Nawacharee