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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