Arms Around Your Love

A step more. She is gone. She left.
My days are empty without her. I call friends to fill my time with something and all they say is “Hey, she was just a girl, move on!” Thing is, she wasn’t just a girl. She was the girl. My love. And she is gone. She left.

I sit here, remembering how she loved to walk in here at night when she couldn’t sleep. This chair was her favourite. She would sit in it, grab a book from the shelf and read until she fell asleep and then I would come to take her to bed. But now she is gone. She left.

My phone is ringing – a friend. “Let’s go out tonight”, he says. “Let’s!”, I answer gladly. Something to take my mind away from her. I take my jacket and leave, I go outside in the cool night air. I walk to the place, the cold seeping through my clothes, touching my skin. Oh, how I wish she was here to keep me warm. She’s warming herself now, she is gone. She left.

I walk in the club, seeing my friend at a table, flashing him a smile. “A beer”, I tell the bartender and then I see her. Right there, on the other side of the bar, next to him. He gives me the beer and takes the money and then his arms, they hold her. They are around my love. She’s no longer mine, she is gone. She left.

Slowly I walk to my friend, not looking back. “Did you see him holding her?!”, I ask. “Who?”, my friend looks at me questioningly. “My love, that guy at the bar has his arms around her.”, I say, somewhat irritated. “This is how you pay for not showing what it is inside.”, my friend answers calmly. She is gone. She left.

Yet I still feel her in my arms. Her smell still haunts me. The price she asks of me is too high to pay. I’d better let her go. She is gone. She left.
I’d better go as well. I am gone. I left.

29.11.2008
Replica