Suddenly, every love song was about us. Every novels ever written. In the highs, the changes, the melody, the bliss and the melancholy, he was everywhere. He was in the connection, in the mercy that embraced me, in the dreams that overtook me. He was in the prayers I weeped in, the song I wanted to write, the muse of a poetry I spent eighteen years looking for. We were in the summer that kissed, the winter that shook and the spring that danced on flowers, rivers, clouds. He was everything. We were in everything. And suddenly I felt so naked, like a lonely street girl in the rain looking for a train that crossed her long ago. I felt naked, stripped off my guards, broken of walls. And I felt naked like a seed unplanted, defeated against a force that had always whispered, “Don’t, don’t.”
I shouldn’t have fallen in love.