Calling dreamers


Wishing and dreaming are described with beauty, but when I look at the clock’ and see the late hour of the night, I do believe that dreams are doomed. Even when everything succeeds around you, they’re feeding your last hopes and illusions. Life is rewarding you but you keep daydreaming with this incredible fever : what if ? You washed apart all these “what if” you left on the road, but you keep hoping for something else.


Yeah. Even when everything is alright, even everything is great, you keep looking for him. You think about this scenario, repeating it endless in your mind. You think about what you would say to him, how you would hug him even if you don’t love him anymore. You think about the sound of your lost laughs – how was this wonderful sound, between the loss of breath and the explosion of joy on your faces ? You can’t remember – the taste of the beer on your lips when you keep talking to him, the warm of his arm. It would not be the same, but it would exist with the same old affection, the one you kept all this time. You would tell him what you became, how you built yourself after him, how proud you are to be what you are now, where you travelled, what you accomplished as human being.

You would show off a little bit, silly you are, but you would deserve it. Because you need to. Because this silly daydream keeps you awake so late, even when you are happy. Because.

Sometimes you forget, but it never lasts. You imagine yourself in front of him, and you see how foolish those hopes are the same, how you still hope it would change a little bit the end of the story. You hope, silly daydreamer, that someone comes to cut the throat of your unceasely wishes.

At that utmost point, where this dream seems to disappear and to loose its heavy blooming colors, you realize how foolish you are. Damned. Damned are you to be hoping these incredible minutes of joy when you will, maybe, see him again.

Wake up, wake up, ’cause tomorow, you will erase those words from your fingers.

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