Looking out over a city at night,
radiating light,
we stood on the rooftop balcony
of the restaurant we agreed to meet.
Sipping champagne,
we saw the endless flow
of white headlights and red tail lights
in the streets.
We pointed out the bright windows
and the people that lived in them.
The fat man in his white tank top,
on his fourth beer of a six pack.
The young girl, alone,
dancing in a colourful outfit
in a living room,
all furniture moved aside.
We must have stood like that
for over an hour.
Looking at the city
and the scenes that unfolded
on the little tv screens
that were appartement windows.

Looking in the corner of our eyes
became quick glimpses.
Quick glimpses became longer looks.
Longer looks became a deep
and intense staring.
Something grew that night.

I told you I did not know the words
to tell you how special the moment felt.
How special you seemed to me,
right there and then.
You said, “That’s okay, your eyes tell me all
I need to know”
. I remember every word.
We joked a bit
that this might very well be
that silly true love thing
other people always talked about.
And, like we often reminisced after that day,
we both hoped.

Only those who have seen
true love’s beautiful face
know there often is an ugly side too.
True love lasts a lifetime,
but relationships don’t give a fuck about that.

I heard you are happy again.
I see you on the pictures you share,
and you smile.
But I always zoom in as far as I can,
and your eyes tell me all I need to know.
I miss you too, my love.

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