The night

I believe this is the night that you meet someone special and finally, I will just be a sweet memory. I feel it in my gut; and if it’s not tonight, it will be the next night or the following one.
I’m not sure, but there will be one night that you will forget how much you wanted to hold me close. You will be holding someone else. You will be going to a crazy decorated pub with someone and have a lovely awkward second kiss on an official first date and realize that it was her: the best wireless connexion you’ve ever had. I never existed.
That one will be the night when you will no longer be expecting me to show up, you actually will give up on me.
That will be the night that I won’t be sending a drunken text, telling you how much you meant to me. How much you mean. I will just cry while writing a whole novel. I will laugh because now you are happy and one night, not this one night, but one night I will be happy as well.
But meanwhile, tonight arrives; and your future love is doing her hair, and you’re drinking with friends, on this side of the ocean, it’s just me and hours.
Hours of planning ways
Hours of fighting reasons and common sense
Hours of hugging a pillow and singing your name
Hours of finding ways to make you love dogs again
Hours of building my own mental plane, my own mental continent, my own Pangea
Hours of setting fire to the whole Atlantic Ocean
Hours of learning French!
And for the few hours that I have left, before disappearing completely from your world, it’s me not letting you go and I’m asking you not to find the person you fall in love with just yet, and I despise myself for being this selfish, but once again, I’m only flesh and bones and bunch of feelings spilled over a page that used to be blank and now is just red.
If I could have control over something it will never be you but it will be the time and its relativity.
Right now the clock is ticking and the night
has arrived.

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