This is a compilation of sentences from my diary. Somehow it turned into a quasi-poem.
Spending summer nights dancing alone,
Wishing you were there with me,
Looking out the dusty window,
On the passersby,
Imagining you by my side.
In the harsh morning light,
Your bloodshot eyes,
The slightly greying hair,
Being incredibly shy again,
Wanting to hold you in my arms.
As you were about to leave,
‘Thanks for putting up with me’,
Oh not that difficult,
When you really want to, dear.
All I want is to drink and talk with you,
The smoke from our cigarettes intertwining,
Have you sleep next to me again,
And if that’s not beautiful,
I don’t know what is.
Just can’t be anything other than who I am, I suppose.