How long does it take for love to vanish?
I think about it inside my car, heading to what i conventionally call home. It’s deep dark, rain is falling and every now and then the fog makes my mind wander to different realities. As if i were alone. I’m not.
B. is by my side, committed to kill love. Or to bury it, after seeing it dying in her own hands. It died so slowly on her that, sometimes, she would take it’s wrist only to make sure it was still alive, like an insecure mother waking in the middle of the night to make sure her baby is still breathing. B’s love died so slowly that she dragged him, dead already, a shadow hiding the loneliness of the days. Her water color eyes look ahead and, even in the darkness, i know they’re not watery. She’s determined. Teardrops will come later, when the work is done and the eternal flame is gone.
S. is in the back seat. The gloominess in her eyes is even darker than the winter night. S’ love suffered from an acute disease called passion. It vanished when the pill of time spread in it’s bloodstream. The sadness is a later side effect. Her eyes as wet as the road outside. She will move on, i know. She’s just not there yet.
And then there’s E. The crime queen, the sudden dead lover. Others’ loves fade, vanish, slowly disappear. Her’s just drown. I look at her in the rearview mirror, interested. The long lasting love cut from her life with the precision of a samurai sword. The other, everlasting unnamed feeling, drowned for the sake of the happiness she seeks. She’s mainly happy, i reckon. But the radio tune caught her by surprise and her eyes on the road, dry as autumn leaves, tell me for whom her bells still tomb.
I keep driving. The road behind is just a memory. Broken leaves are just wings to fly.
We move on.