Thursdays

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

 

 

 

 

On my own

I´ve cooled down a bit, or so it seems. I´m able to be by myself without feeling like throwing myself out of the window in desperation, I´m making the fire, washing my clothes and preparing some sort of dinner, too. Who knew it´d be that hard to do what I´ve been doing for ages, just because I´m on my own now?

I´ve been so sociable lately that I´m right out exhausted. I just want to listen to music by my furry boys, write until I have no more words coming out and then go to sleep. I´ve started being able to fall asleep by myself again, without sleeping pills, that is. I still wake up in the middle of the night, though, and only sleep for 5-6 hours, but it´s a step forward.

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