• Vol. 08
  • Chapter 02
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I Make A Paper Crown Out Of Your Newspaper

Day comes again, unexpectedly.
No need to rush out of bed to make coffee or fight for a spot in front of the mirror.
Toothbrush, blades, shaving cream lie over the white ceramic. There was never enough space.
Your clothes still scattered around the wooden floor, marked by your endless cups of tea.
I can eat what I want. I can watch what I want on TV.
I can choose where to go on my next holidays.
The piles of laundry can wait until the following day.

I drag myself into this new life, like a snake peeling off her old skin.
Traces left behind in the hot desert, which no one else can see.
I sit in front of the bay window overlooking the trees we planted together.
The golden leaves slowly coming down, like falling angels.
I have a cup of coffee, and I make a paper crown out of your newspaper.
Now, I am my own Queen.

Afternoon soon knocks at the front door.
The garden is blooming, in spite of the Autumn’s fall.
I decide to cycle into town. I ended up entering the same old restaurant.
The waiter recognises me, and he asks surprised ‘Table for one?’ I hesitate, ‘Yes’.
I sit down. He suggests, ’The usual?' I reply firmly, ‘No’. (I always wanted to try the new menu.)


I Make A Paper Crown Out Of Your Newspaper

We won’t drive home together this time, arguing all the way. Peace and quiet. ‘Gosh, I miss you!’
The house is filled with silence. Still, I talk aloud like if you were in the next room.
The day passes in a flash, like missing a fast train.
For a moment I forget, you left me yesterday.

Night comes crawling in.
Clusters of stars beyond the moon. I watch them floating inside the skylight.
The bed is cold. I toss around into the void, swallowed by mountains of Egyptian cotton.
They still smell like you and me. I have all these extra pillows. I don’t know what to do with them.
The last novel you read lies on your bedside table, half open.
Exhausted, I fall sleep.

Morning comes through the window.
Golden rays and shadows dance around the picture frames. Traces of a life we shared.
I feel a warm breath on my face. I smile and I reach out to you.
Cat jumps in a fright. I murmur, ‘It’s your turn to feed him!’
I turn around… My hands touch your empty pillows.
I go back to sleep.