42 °F

Morning of winter, blue and cloudless sky. I stop for a moment, waiting for the burning rays of the Sun to burn my face and the icy wind freeze my skin, and wake me from this slumber that has my soul.

The small corner florist calls me; there they are, dismissing shimmering rays of yellow light in the form of petals, and his dark brown heart reminds me that I do not know her at all.

I bought them, four or five, while more are better, I know that she loves them.

Tonight I'll take them; hoping that this gesture causes in her the sincerely response of a soul contained, restricted to feel.

Maybe, today we move a step further or... I just realized that it will never happen.

Night of winter, lonesome road. Lunar promise that things will be better tomorrow; I stop for a moment, I hope the relentless nocturnal cold numb my soul, and finally can get away from her forever.

Author's Note

English is not my mother language, please forgive me for the grammar.