Around midnight -- Stretch the evening --

Where did my feet take me? Now I'm sitting here endless yet short night fallen - under a dim streetlight - on the first massive bench - out of breath after invisible fight - and I'm transparent.

 See me not.                                                                                                         opposite the round window of the monochrome house - like a ghost, I'm sitting, my inside house lost.

Ignored by all, including myself, art nouveau mélangé with faint smell of kids' dope, kissed by the hissing stop of the last bus on a Friday night. They are teenagers sitting on the second and third bench, one of them holding a smartphone while nodding to meaningless sounds.

Lazy compelled dizzy spellbound: I sit here counting empty past days - a nomad! - people come and go every once in a while - I'm kind of blinded by their tired headlights, still I sit here, light-headed as summer rushes and leaves me torn - I sit here knowing I won't stand another Fall, another winter. Behind me a dream, dark trees, somber park. 

Dream - ing of a sum - mer that we could never spend toge - ther.               I have become an imperceptible reptile that hopes for your crocodile tears - the irony of disappearing, leaving an abandoned black bike next to the old-fashioned bench.

Not much is left, after a time long enough to blot out my image. What part of me still hopes to wake up to the smooth evasion of soft drying tears?     Thieves. That, we were and I wish we had given each other instead of stealing.

You are just a few meters away from who I was - and now? The pen leaves these marks on a saturated sheet of paper (vivid or pathetic words?)                

Above me, an oak tree and a lamppost - in livid light I watch: the leaves' shadow with that of my hand that keeps writing - a faint sign of something that is still alive.