Going abroad, to heal your broken heart, and, it had, just not in the way you thought it would work before you left home, translated…
The people made their ways away from the piazza, reminding me of the times I’d failed, professing my love to people.what it’d looked like, dusk in Venice, photo from online…
Actually, after puberty, I’d known, that it’s a gamble, professing my love to someone. And those without hopes are the ones who gambled, to wait for that, already-known, but unaccepted answer. As I passed through, or entered into the lives of more and more others, I wouldn’t fail to understand, that as the timing presented itself, we’d, hold hands, or that I’d, gently, kissed her on the forehead, asking about this and that, with so many things we can, talk about.
I’d felt that people are, scattering away around me. The door of that church can finally, gaze upon the openings of the canal. It was, nine in the evening.
The street artists put up their guitars and music stands, without the music accompanying, there’s, only, the wind that migrated with the gulls, what floated the boats was, the sound of the running water. You, are what’s, left me, you, you all. Then, becoming, a group of unrelated people, with the sun, setting in-between you, it’s, the dusk now.
Professions of love is like so: I know I needed to proclaim it, and yet, as I’d blurted it all out, it was, time for parting. And, we’d, turned our backs toward the times we’d once shared, knowing that we won’t be, traveling together again. My future, and yours, are still on the same side of the river, but, we’d, walked back-to-back, toward the seas now. So, I wasn’t, willing to let you go. That was why, I’d, dragged it out until the very last second, so I can, experience these, final moments, the skies turned dark, I couldn’t, keep you any longer, then, I’d, said I love you, so I can, leave finally.
when we can no longer hold on to each other…not my photo…
After I’d left, I’d passed that bridge between the edifices, the alleys between the residences, still holding on to the thought, of the square at the beginning of dusk. Kept looking back, at the notes and people who still hung on, laughing, applauding, it all seemed to, stay, right there. Until I’d gone far off, the street light glowed, then, I’d, put up my delusions, and finally, accepted: that the wonderful gathering, that closeness, wasn’t from the love, but due to serendipity.
As I returned back to my hotel, the skies are already, the deepest shade of blue. The man standing at the check-in counter and I acknowledged one another, I’d turned to face the large window. There were, drops appearing on the window now, and, in no more than a moment’s time, the rain poured down. And I saw myself, the body so clean, and clear. Recalling the past, it seemed to, take me onto that parallel plane. Everything became, so far away now. It all becomes, something so far away. This time and then, you, or you, both well?
The rain continued in my mind, but, there were, moments, where the rain didn’t get to me, and there were, those couple of instances of love, and loss too.
I wasn’t rained down on, because I was lucky back then, and, as we broke up, I’d say, “Thank you”, with my tears falling from my face, I do, cherish, this lost love you’d, allowed me to experience with you.
So here, you’d, gone abroad, to try to heal up your broken heart, and yet, everywhere you are in a foreign country, you’re, reminded of the love the two of you used to share, but, in the end, you were able to, finally, let go of that lost love, because, she’d left those memories in your hearts, and you are, cherishing the experiences of finding, and losing love.