Hope

Hope can be like this window.
An unexpected pink curtain fluttering in the wind like a whiff of sweet sweet roses in your hair.
The yearning and longing moves in circles and gives birth to itself in seemingly neverending successions. It's as if the dompteur just fell asleep, can't direct no more. The arm sunken down, hanging useless at the side, feeling heavy, as if it was made of gold and platinum. The premium experience of heavy repetition. The final installment of time and space in one point for eternity.

I know you don't know what I am talking about. I am just tired and trying to draw circles into my computer and blank mind. If I only could think properly. But since I can't I am just kind of hopelessly hoping, hanging in the air.

I know I really loved you man. I really really did. That's wonderful. I don't know about now but it came to me today, while riding my skateboard back 'home', that it really was beautiful not to say anything and just be with each other. In each other.
I can't help it but I can't cry anymore. People knew that it was special. I mean man, even Ben the big 'that's life man'-dude asked me whether I saw you.

The complexity of the situation makes for a good confusion.
We are tangled up in blue.

And the dompteur slowly rises his arm...