Shivering

A year ago, I was sitting on the bench overlooking the city and slightly shivering; it wasn't a cold night, it was this beautiful creature sitting next to me, sharing the bench and extraordinary moments of closeness with my wonder-struck self.

I'd love her, I'd love her till the end of my days, oh God, I would, would she let me, would she wanted me to.

For months, I hoped she was hesitating, and maybe she really was. My brain cells still scream of pain and lust I went through; the most technicolor experience of my life, far better than any drug I ever tasted.

Then, one day, I finally woke up. Rejecting love — though it's just love in waiting — was brutal. Man, was I hurt, stabbing myself, cutting my veins, murdering my hopes and dreams. Seeing her was like burning in hell, yet still nothing like not seeing her; the torture seemed to be everlasting. Have anybody heard my silent screams? Have anybody noticed my invisible tears?

Few more months have passed until I slightly and painfully found my way around agony I was more dying than living through.

A year has passed and I'm still not cured. Yet I've buried my distress deep inside and we hardly come across each other these days anymore. I live, I laugh and I go on feeling stronger than ever.

Lunch?, a message pops in while I'm already eating. A thousand kilometers away. With somebody else.

And I'm still shivering.