Part 2

The escape…in the mirror

Biebiep..biebiep..biebiep

Damned alarm clock!

There it is this feeling again. When I the eyes open my look at the cushion … with the hand falls I glide over it as if I could catch you … untouched, coldly, blank … it has become a custom, belongs to my morning. For 2 years I stare at this cushion, for 2 years always the same desperate feeling, for 2 years it is so endlessly coldly in this house and for 2 years always the same tantalizing question: Where are you?

I hear a door in the castle fall … a loud, crashing noise in the background, for the fraction of one second I hear your step like they getting closer. Here immediately you are, here with me, here in our house, in our bed. I close the eyes, open them, close them again, open them, however, the cushion remains empty. Every morning the same ritual. One must be already very strong not to be moved. Does move? How ridiculously itself this feels. Yes, I am crazy, and if already whom it disturbs? … between wines and laughter, between desperation of tragic comic.

The longer I glide over the cushion, the more clearly become the recollections, the recollections of that night. At that time I have slept deeply and firmly. Whether have I dreamt? I do not know it any more, I have so often thought about the fact that the recollection has grown pale of it. In that morning I had for the first time this feeling. And today it is like a bad friend of whom I do not get rid and which I would miss if he was not there any more.

You have crept secretly from the house, at night under cover of darkness. Why? Was our respect so little worth to you then? When, say to me when you have lost the respect for our love. If what were not any more counts and what will be no more meaning for you has who then I am?

It becomes a time, to be pending, to cook a coffee to take a shower. The water of the shower a pitiful attempt to wash away the feelings. The tears run over my face, mix with the water of the shower. It is as if they had the power about the water, not vice versa. And there he is again, the slightly salty taste on my lips which I the whole ones do not meet will forget. I close the eyes.