This island is small
I remember lying on this bed away from each angry, back then the distance seemed so big
Now I lie hear by myself
My bed hasn’t felt your body since
And it feels small, incredibly small without you
I know that’s not physically possible
But it sure feels like it in my memories
Like some how our beloved little island shrunk
It was the only place we could be together without being chased by the sharp tongues, and the condescending glances of the jealous others.
It made sense, we named it something in Portuguese and French, after our mother tongues.
I haven’t spoke french since then.
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The best way to get to know a person is not by what they say about themselves, but what they say about the world, people and everything else. So if you want to get to know me there is no better way than just simply reading my work. It’s the window to my soul.
