My heart still
breaks a little
at the sound of
your name.

I wonder where
you are, or how
you have been
or how many nights like
these passed by without
you noticing or
remembering that
once, on an August night
we were together
and you were mine.

I wonder if she knows
how to love you
the way I did, or if
she knows how to
pronounce your name
without lifting her tongue
and letting it slide
on the roof of
regret, or if she is happy
with you, or if she
wish she was with
someone else.

Sometimes I imagine
your face among the
sea of strangers’ faces,
by the train station on a windy
August day. Sometimes I
imagine bumping
into you along the
way and smiling, and
if you ask me how I am, I
imagine making up
excuses about how my
life has been since you
came and took it away.

I imagine lies, lies, lies,
about forgetting and
moving on, these lies
people tell themselves
over and over again
like cracked vinyls, if only
to extract their hearts from
suffering over lost

I imagine you smiling
at me too: hazel eyes,
scruffy hair, I figure you
lost weight too like leaving
behind heavy baggages,
speaking words that
have lost their meaning
a very long time ago.

Five years.

Your friend told me
you were in love with
someone else, and I thought
what a funny thing it is to
be with somebody and
have a heart that screams
a different name.

Do you love her? Does she
make your heart flutter like
the first girl did, or does
it hurt thinking that
the lost love of
your life is out there, alone
in the world and you are
here with someone else?

And I figured,
Welcome to the Lonely Hearts Club, my dear”
you have fallen into
the same trap, the same device
as I have fallen into. Welcome to
this elaborate heartless mischief
they call love.


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