our modern world
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Wednesday, April 25, 2007
we brush the dust off our tires. we look at each other one last time. the lanes are clean. only the faint glimmer of nightlamps give life to the darkness that lies ahead. it took us at least 16 quarters to get where we are. this time we aren't turning back. we took this path before, but that time we were together. i take my last stick of smoke, look up the stars and then at you, you do the same thing. we're similar that way and it's just so cute and sweet. the moon is hidden behind the grey clouds and everything seems to be growing darker. we can see only our silhouettes. we want to waive goodbye. but we don't.
you know our story. everyone does.
we slowly walk away. disappearing into the fog that now envelopes our surroundings. we can't see each other. but we can feel each other's breaths colliding with the cold air barrier now seperating us. these few steps we take away from each other feel heavy, as if the world's gravity was pulling us back together, but we fight that. is this the right thing to do? that's the trouble, there is no right thing, there's just your choice whether you want to stick with it or not, most of the time we stuck with it, but now we decide to let... it becomes so hard that way, we want to look back but we shouldn't, we want to run to each other but this time we couldn't, we just couldn't, as much as the world pulls us together.
what ever happened? sweet sighs and lovely, lovely goodbyes. soft songs and rythmic dances, all blown away. you were once that girl i saw dancing in the moonlight. and who could ever forget. that's another thing. we don't forget. i don't forget.
and so i open the door of my car. step inside and comfortably seat myself on the driver's seat. the black paint glimmers as it mirrors the moon's faint aura and the fading clouds. when i try to look back. i see nothing and that's just the way it's gonna be.but it could still end another way. i hope. for now, let's be content of what lies ahead. an ever consuming darkness, a night never ending, a fog never lifting.
and what's on your side? sunshine.
***
this story can be retold so many times in so many different ways. but in the end it always comes down to one ending.
"there is a wall that ruuuns right through me"- kreuzberg, bloc party
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