two

I felt so much for you and now, I cannot return to my life. I feel it, the enchanting blindness of looking at your face and never at the disdain you show me every time our conversations stop on the drive home, after we meet our friends.

There are no more films to watch with you on my shelves. Their sounds and images of captured lives used to fill the rooms completely and we joined them for fifty-two Sundays. Do you remember how we sat on my sofa, bored and hungry for popcorn? There must be a new place for me to see and feel again. I felt so much for you and now I understand why you’re leaving me: I have been in love only with myself and all I felt were my own feelings.

Simon knocked on my door and smiled when he looked at my notepad, freshly wet from wine on the coffee table. He started laughing and asked: “What are you writing, Lucius?” He gave me a small jewel box. As I opened it, he said: “Jamais deux sans toi. Never two without you.” I felt stupid a million times at that moment. “You are a silly man, Lucius.” Yes, I am.

Text: © Lucius Bod, 2010
Image: © Michael Epps with Martin Angerbauer, New York 2010

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