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söndag 25 januari 2015

The Prince

I look at you and I see a future. It is made of adventure and skydiving and motorcycles and mountains to conquer. I look at you and I see a man. He doesn't like to fight, but he knows that walking away is not always and option. I see frailty and scars, but determination and bravery supersedes the fear. I see an open mind and self-respect and a sturdy frame that remains balanced. I look at you as you pull on my heart strings with your words; your broad, handsome face, your hands waving about as you explain scientific theories to me.

And I turn into gold.

Elin Ruth Sigvardsson – When I Leave

söndag 4 januari 2015

New Year

From across the bar - I watch him. He carries our drinks and twinkles at me. 

"Here you go, darling." 

And with those words he fades away. I still see him, but I am no longer there. I look into his eyes, but they are slanting and green now and his eyebrows are darker, thicker, fuller. He reaches for me - broken knuckles touches porcelain as I feel you through him. I move swiftly through the thick film of memories from another time - disconnected, lost to him (because I want to be) and I know you are here because he is wrong. My gaze takes in the faces around me - working men from another time, another space, the band playing the banjo on stage. 

"You like the banjo, don't you?" you say as you lean back with a wolfish smile (typical, so typical). And we are in Westport, very far away from London. And it's another year, another month and I can't breathe because I feel so much and I fear if I blink you will disappear. You taught me to chase rainbows. You taught me to endeavour to achieve the unachievable and this bar in London is not it, this man by my side is not it. 

As I step out into the night - your steps echo next to mine on the way to the metro.