49. leaving hard is full of pain, oh, the aching.

I belive you are not here with me anymore. I belive I am not where you are. I belive that you are somewhere else today, and yesterday and probably tomorrow.
I belive that it is ok for me to let you go,
and I belive that you are the essence and life of my teenage years.
I do belive I will see you again,
and one day the sky will burn and we´ll see if you need me then.
If not, that is ok too.
(Your silence still makes it impossible to forget you.)
Fivehundred and eighty-nine postcards are being removed from the sewar.
The streetlights are on and the roads still whispers the agonys of teenage love and fear.
Somewhere in a park there are two lost young souls discussing a band yet to be discovered by the general public. He is giving her his jeanjacket, whispering something in her ear. The coffemugs keep rolling down the sidewalks as the resturants keep taking orders, keep serving tables, still playing ”Lua” on repeat. And somewhere close, in a neighborhood, a young woman is finally telling her mother that she hates the smell of stew.