Six O'Clock On Any Day
The light of the moon sneaked behind the curtains of my darkened room. I hate light when it comes to sleep. It is in darkness I find the peace I need to leave this world and live in the realm of dreams for a couple of hours.
Half asleep, half awake, I see her silhouette beside me, I feel her perfume, I feel her slow paced breathing after making love, I smell her sweet sweat and tiredness after an orgy of love. But I know she is not there. I know she is
miles away from me, I don't know if she thinks of me sometimes. Our song starts playing at the back of my brain: "Debo saber si es verdad, si en algún lado estás, voy a buscar una señal, una canción". Thousands of songs struggle to
use my brain just to remind me of her and bring back feelings I will never forget. I am tired of crying, I am tired of feeling miserable, I am tired of feeling alone, as the song says: "Jar of love isn't dry until the last drop falls".
And sadly, I guess I still have teardrops for her and her love. How can it be that he sweetest thing in the world becomes the most bitter of all? How come laugh grows into crying? It's six o'clock, and I don't care about the day, as
it has been like this for months. "To know the way to use the spell that binds dreams and reality" says another song. And how I wish it is true. I know this is my destiny, to fake I'm ok with my wife when she comes every weekend.
To fake that I love her, when my whole body and soul craves for my lover, my true and only love. This is the time when my brain starts to shut down into sleep again, because he knows it is the old same routine everyday. No tears for
her this morning, just a flip of the pillow to get the colder side and back to sleep, to keep just living as it will be for good.