Tel est vendredi
You spent your Friday packing, unpacking, packing, reminiscing, packing, unpacking, reminiscing.
Listening to melancholic melodies and vocals so sad it tears.
With an empty stomach and pounding left side brain.
You spent the past few months packing, moving, unpacking, packing, moving, unpacking.
T’was worse than living out of a suitcase – you’re not moving to a newer place, you’re not seeing fresh face.
You are but lingering in limbo, made of what-ifs and whatnots.
You spend the Friday evening flicking from station to station, drink, flick, drink, drink, flick, smirk, flick.
Listening to languages so familiar yet so strange it makes you wonder what you’ll become.
With a eventless night, you resume to packing and unpacking.