Just a kite

It was graceful;

The silk turned alive

Delicate and light bones

Glided on the breathing wind

Oh, I ran before it,

I also gave it leeway

Then, jealous of its ability to fly

Or just wanting its singing colored silk for me

I pulled on the string and brought it,

Closer, but never to earth

It was better flying

At some point, I let go, or was forced to

I tried to wave at it; come back,

Sad, I was told:

It was just a kite

It was warm;

I hungered for the light breeze

Every time it stopped whispering

I craved it even more.

And the void around,

With hues of blue and yellow

Only captivated by impressionists

Never quenched my thirst

Only deepened it

But there, loneliness was just a state

Just like my insignificance: crushing,

Yet, necessary to feel fulfilled.

This sensitivity to short-lived and long gone beauty,

Won me over. Then someone said:

But it is just a painted sky

She was graceful,

Even in that signature klutziness.

Warm, her smile shone. Yes, it did.

She was genuine, even in barely “hidden” jealousy

I was afraid, of snapping the thin thread

Of hopes and dreams

But the knives of fear did it for me.

I waved, I craved, I begged and knelt,

Sometimes, it is just not enough.

Melancholy, Nostalgia and spleen hover,

Like uninvited friends,

While the long awaited sleep

Denies me any rest

They want me to understand that:

It was just a good bye

A first, of more to come