I remember, remember going home from yours. Alone, afraid of getting lost on the unknown and familiar way.
I remember the stupid grin that must have garnished my face, the singing in my head, your fawn-like eyes still so vivid in my memory, just like your childish ways.

I remember being jealous waiting for the train, jealous of those couples who were together there and then, jealous thinking how I would have warmed you up hugging you with my coat.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras…

And I remember the sudden surprise, despicable spawn of your overthinking, one day like any other day, surely less dreary now in memory than it was back then.
I don’t remember what came next, for I don’t want to.

And yet today — as I listen to I Cani you introduced me to, and whilst I languish for her absence, she who is nothing like you — I think how, really!, I was happy.

As ill as I can speak of you, that is the truth, my friend: we were happy.

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