They used to laugh with you,
stopped walking in the mid of the way back home just to tell that they like you. And then laugh again.
They liked you for your sarcastic and witty jokes,
for caring and for being present.
You had so much fun talking and sharing life,
food and tea with them.
You’re comfortable, instead of fool, when they say,
“Know what, I’ve never met someone like you, standing like a statue in front of a DJ.” And then laugh again.
You used to be very sad
hearing they were sorry for knowing and spending time with you just for a while:
“I wish you don’t need to move out.”
Swap contact. Being cold. Having different life. Forget.
And now: strangers.
For the sweets I gave you and the ten euro that you didn’t pay back.
For your mom-made dish (and that chill lemonade) you shared. For your help all way downstairs. For the sad look at goodbye;
Cheers, my friend.
I used to like you a lot too.
— thank you for a colorful short autumn. and my bad for suggesting you it’s ok to wear a short (twas too cold) —