La tua cantante
I see his eyes in the middle of a crowd. Just his eyes, not more. His gaze is - mesmerizing, breathtaking.
My knees start to shake, my heart pounds.
When is it going to stop?
When will I stop reacting like this to an image, that isn't even him?
When will my body forget?
So I turn around and leave the crowd. I wish that he follows me, reaches out his hand like he had often done, intertwines his fingers with mine for no reason, but to stop me. And I would, I would stop instantly, because that is what I do. What I've always done.
But he is just an imagination, a figment made up by my own mind. The area around the eyes is similar, but the face is completely different.
He is more than 2000 kilometres away.
So he is just a hallucination - how sad is that?
How sad is it, that he is still in there?