on my hands from touching certain people... Certain heads, certain colours and textures of human hair leave permanent marks on me.
Do you know this feeling when someone who you used to know suddenly appears in your head? It pops up like the thought that you forgot to turn off the iron at home or something. So it always happens to me. These people come and say “Hi! Do you remember that awful mulled wine?” And the moment when I think about that mulled wine I want to disappear. I want to get rid of the memories. But I can’t. I still remember that girl, dusty sofas, awkward waitress, cheap wine with huge slices of orange and all the rest. At the moment melancholy fills my brain and my whole body. That day will never come back. She left. I left. Even that place is gone. We’ll never meet each other again there, at that time, drinking and speaking. It’s gone forever. And it always happens. People are leaving but these marks on me remain. And I can’t help it. I can’t forget the places, the voices, the jokes, the faces, blue eyes, brown eyes, blonde hair, long hair, the smiles... I wish it wouldn’t hurt me so. I want to live on and go ahead. But these people still come and talk to me.
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