My body was an instrument that only you could play. My chords were full of defiance, anyone else would have wanted to rip them apart. You contorted my melody but it still sounded good. Sounds from an elegiac world. You were Herakles and I let you tame me.
The other women in your life didn’t have anything to do with us, you had to take them because they were there and needed to be taken. I could understand that, I could understand that you had to do what you had to do as long as you could still do it.
Because maybe you sensed that it was going to be over soon. Everything comes to an end, my beloved. Even the two of us had to part. Everybody on their own. Away from the other. It is not even tragic. It is what it is.
This picture with your mother is the only everlasting picture of you that I own. But it is far away from what we had. You were never that boy in the picture. He didn’t wear your face. Only in death you have become who you once were.
