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We exchanged vows, you say
Sacred and beautiful under the shade of the riverside willow tree.
You held my hand – you remind me – in the dusk of a lazy Saturday
It was April
You were wearing your finest checkered shirt
and your cleanest jeans
Yet you still looked like an old, shabby bourgeois
– that I never dared mention –
And under the mournful branches of the willow tree
the same one that we always sat under when the weather was nice
and you were in the mood to read me passages from your favorite authors
Kerouac, Bukowski, de Maupassant and all your other tortured heroes
so fixated on reality, they made my spirit flee
We promised from that moment on

Two will be no more
One feeling, one thought,
the wisdom of the world
the kindness within
Attainable to us
And when our mortal mantles are rent
immortal our souls will become
incandescent specks scattered in the universe

All these, I really meant, you whisper
with your gaze fixed on the wall behind me.

Now you pack your bags.
You got a new job
– the pay is significant higher and with more tax-free benefits –
You can take care of yourself, you state coldly.

The wooden cat you bought me
is still by the window, looking outside, waiting for you to come home every evening
Like it always did.
The dirty pans in the kitchen sink
The half-empty bottle of shampoo in the bathroom
A domesticity abandoned.

This is the last box, you announce.
The floor is dirty.
I need to hoover after you leave.

All of a sudden, how quiet the house will be.

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