You see… I can’t remember you very well. I can’t remember what it’s like to be around you. But I’m sure it must feel great. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have dreamt of it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have longed for it. I still believe that you’re the answer. The only answer for all my questions.
When I was younger I thought you were the only thing I lacked. I missed you every day, even though I didn’t know you very well. At all. Actually, I didn’t know you at all. Just a face carved in my memory, just a few smiles, just a few jokes. The pictures that my mother drew on a mouldy wallpaper were too blurry. They were a lie. I’d been always lied to.
While I was growing older, I learnt how to live without you. I learnt how to take care of myself. I became strong and independent. The hole was still in me, though. Raw. A piece of my body deprived of skin that hurts every time I touch it. The hole that cannot be hidden and, at the same time, cannot be exposed. The hole that was given to me by the ones who should love me the most.
My heart longs and cries for something I cannot remember. The taste of the sweet syrup in the morning. The breeze in the sea of laughters. The warmth in the kingdom of dreams. The sense of safety.
Instead, I’ve been walking on pebbles. Knowing they’re slippy and dangerous, I take every step very carefully, very slowly, counting every drop of water that slips through my fingers.
I don’t know how long I have been like this for. I don’t know how long I’m going to stay like this for. Lingering.
Painted Poems 