sometimes

Sometimes, I wish I could be someone else. Even for just a split of seconds, an hour or just a day. Not to change things, feel how it is to be in other people's shoes, to be better.

No.

I'd like to see my face when I lose.

I'd like to see my tears.

I'd like to know why some still care and others don't even write anymore.


I'd like to make myself happy, even though such a feeling would be only a faint touch of something still blooming or already dying out there.


I'd like to see a smile playing on my face.

I'd like to see myself blowing a kiss at someone, although that someone is long dead but
still manages to whisper silly, broken love spells into my ear.


I'd like to see myself die one day.
From a bullet, a combat knife. Of leukemia, a broken heart.


I'd like to see your face the moment my coffin settles in-between the grass and the reddish sky. I'd like to touch your tears then, those fake ones caught on the lips of the bystanders and taste every one of them with pietism.

I'd like to see my clothes being torn or still cradled at night in your unmoving, lifeless arms.

I'd like to see lanterns being lit up every other January or October or never beside the head of my small, white marble memorial.

Sometimes the light used to catch itself in your hair and I wish I could have been myself just a bit longer those moments.

I'd like to have been able to kiss your lips then and pretend you could be just as immortal as the airglow and my dreams.

I'd like to see you smile afterwards.

I'd like to still have you here.