When you’re down you smell like rain. Perhaps that is why my body spreads out like an umbrella – to shelter you from god’s tears. But people tell me not to get involved – and so I crawl back into myself to stare at you from behind my skin. Perhaps you will not notice that I am still staring. But people tell me that it’s wrong. Should I let you be? Should I soak up your thoughts with my heart? People tell me the heart is like a sponge but maybe I misunderstood. I should learn to stop taking things so literally.
Your smile pulls me in. It’s hard to keep my distance and to observe you from afar. I should abstain from you but it feels wrong. Yet people tell me that it is a proven method – “distance can break and undo the workings of the heart!” How do they know, I wonder? I cannot but throw a smile in your direction, even if you do not care to catch it – even if you do not care for me right now.
I stare into you. But I heard it confirmed on the radio that this will only make things worse. So I look away. Why have you retreated so far within your thoughts that I cannot reach? It is a childish feeling. I remember a time when I was a child, when snails would annoy me. I would try to touch their skin but they would quickly retreat into their shells. Why were they afraid of me? Why must you hide from me? Why must you run back into your shell every time I tell you this? Why must I always tell you this? Why can’t I just plaster my mouth shut and keep my distance? I don’t even own a radio!