Husband. That’s what I would like to call you. But that’s not who you are; to me. Like a sailor in the stormy sea, you seem in control of the situation, but even you have lost bearing. Like a tailor at the market, I am sewing and making any possible amends on our cloth but it still isn’t looking too good. As much as I keep hearing potential customers saying that, I am deaf. I only sew and see you.
When I think, I am left alone, you are always there; calling me, saying sweet nothing. At the end of our conversations, you are the skilled con who always leaves me feeling happy to be robbed. You have instilled in me a sense that we are on, so I am happy to be tricked. I am indeed a silly girl and surprisingly, happy to be sick of this. I am happy that we are as in sync, on the streets and between sheets more than in reality.
In summary, you keep paying my heart a courtesy call, playing it like a guitar. The music that we produce is good for the ears now but worthless years from now. My Producer, my engineer and my technician – just why couldn’t you have discovered my talent earlier? It feels like my career is way lost, even before taking off. I endear this way more that I should. And you my dear lead me way faster than you should have.
Now, when I look at you and your lovely family, you seem way cooler than when I look at us. And I realize that I am the loser. I am the dreamer, unable to decipher night from day. Though leaner, my heart delivers a message everyday, that it’s cleaner without you. And like an aeroplane lost in the clouds, the truth is I am unable to land.
Black Roses 