This morning, I’m sitting at a terrace,
I’v been coming here for three years to write,
The sun warms up my chest, coffee slightly burns my tongue,
That’s how I like to start my day, before something important happens.
In about ten minutes, I will stand up, walk to the Jardin des plantes,
I close my eyes, picture our bench, a shiver runs down my spine,
The statues are waiting for me, it’s time to go,
To say bye to her, until next time.
Months have gone by,
The river burst its banks, twice,
I’ve walked across the green bridge, dozens of times,
And I cannot remember who it was that loved you, that you loved.
Tomorrow, as the sun rises, I will start packing my suitcase,
I will not bring anything reminding me of you or us,
Everything will taste of new beginnings,
adventures and her.
Now, my cup is empty,
My hand is shaking a bit, I need to stand up,
I need to start walking, but I love the smell of coffee,
And fear cripples me, I’m gonna wait a bit longer before going.
One more week, that’s how long I need to wait for her to be back,
I’ll listen to her heart beating, to make sure that she’s real,
She will hold me tight in her soothing arms,
Nothing will scare me anymore.
For almost two years, I didn’t see her,
Or anyone for that matter, including myself,
I was blind, suffocating under your unwholesome web,
But freedom came with a sweet dizziness I cannot get enough of.
Tonight, I’m gonna go to the pub, and almost certainly get drunk,
My friends will raise their glass, they’ll promise to visit,
Madrid isn’t that far, I’ll pretend to believe them,
but I’ll cheer to new beginnings.