Not even the sun, it can still cover up, the trees move unruly in the cold air. Reluctantly, they must endure, as the cold wind rips the leaves from the branches. It is autumn.
I sit alone in the garden and going to witness this spectacle of nature. Slightly melancholy, yet pragmatic enough I realize that the loneliness that surrounds me, this drama intensified.
How gladly would I be able to see it through his eyes, this cruel environment by let him be a better place.
the seat next to me empty.
him I had explained in seven minutes, that he is not worth it, continues to be a part of my life to be.
seven minutes when I stepped down it, seven minutes, which made it worth less.
I talked of failed attempts of discomfort in my life and how he would have little place in it.
seven minutes in which the pathos of love apparently went out. Together we
had bathed in the rays of the sun, let us take the wind and we could hear our stories.
Within seven minutes, I snatched those memories from his heart. I did not want share more with him and suddenly it was as if they were not even memories, but only really old, maybe never happened stories.
And when I saw that, I knew I had him in seven minutes, the heart broke, but we took a whole life.
The sun, the beautiful sun casts its light through the trees. And dance the trees, they readily in the wind and he throws one or another of the branches. It is autumn.
I sit alone in the garden and admire the spectacle of nature. Slightly melancholy, yet pragmatic enough I realize that the loneliness that surrounds me, this play becomes cloudy.
How I would share my view now, this enchanting environment to enjoy with her.
the seat next to me empty.
you had told me in seven minutes that I am not worthy to continue to be a part of their lives.
seven minutes, I stepped down, seven minutes, which made me less valuable.
She spoke of failed attempts of discomfort in their lives and how little space I had in it.
seven minutes in which the pathos of love apparently went out. Together we
had bathed in the rays of the sun, let us take the wind and we could hear our stories.
The stories of the streets, walked around to where we are. Where the stars about us burning, under which I took her in my arms.
The history of this small Irish pubs in which I gave her the first time a kiss on the cheek.
And then there were also my apartment, the report did too readily of how their fragrance fills the air was, as he is in every room, had set in each niche. Here
their photos hanging on the wall, the small letters were lying on my desk, found throughout the various gifts and their clothes were still either in the bathroom, or loosely in a chair.
And finally, the story of how I Reserve left the last weeks of her in my bed, carried top in my bed, to put it to sleep in my poor to be able to keep.
Within seven minutes they wanted to tear these memories from my heart. They did not want to share with me.
I smiled leaned back and knew that it take more than seven minutes would help me to take a lifetime.
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