The wind blows into my poignant soul,
Blows on an empty scene.
On the way back, after a haircut,
welling tears finally break loose.
The sky wells up, and the dark street feels the cold raindrops.
The rain that follows in torrents feels distant from me,
Feels like it has already stopped.
The world is just like yesterday’s.
And time flows.
But it’s only me that’s different like this.
My futile wishes that the wind has scattered sorrowfully disappear.
The wind blows, conjuring up the past in chilling air.
At the end of the summer,
your stance was cold from behind.
It seemed. Now I think I know.
The same sleepless nights of my precious days
Were no different for you from those of the present.
Love is tragedy as you are not me.
Memories are written differently.
Our parting was done without even a good bye.
The world is just like yesterday’s.
It’s only me that’s different.
Memories, to me, worth millions Once inside my head, over which the wind blows.
Tears run down.