Thursdays are for soul searching,

Dinners with friends,

Runny nose and clouded eyes,

Thursdays are for sleeping alone.


I don´t want us to move so fast,

I always rush into things,

I don´t even know the meaning of slow,

But I´d like this time to last.


Like in a modern fairytale

I kind of miss you,

But I´m too  busy running around

To admit it to myself.


Good night, pretty baby

Search for me with your fingertips

You´ll find my smell in your sheets.


February, 2016





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