The death of a moving man

Hey good lookin’.

I saw you this morning walking around the streets.

Your steady pace made me label you as the “happy-go-lucky” man.

No trace of stress.

Your inner peace comes perfectly good with your silent presence.

You seemed so sure about yourself.

Confident, fearless, almost unbeatable.

The aura of your power overwhelmed your walking.

…

Silent voices murmured sarcastically. They know your secret obsession.

…

A big smile formed on your lips. Maybe you’ve heard them. But you don’t even care. You know your worth even if they don’t.

Think it’s super-cool the way you know how to share a moment of soundless watching without even realizing it.

…

I’m sitting in my cozy apartment.

The hot cup of chocolate fits perfect next to my blameless verbalistic thoughts.

…

My window changed its positive mood.

Your presence to the opposite side of the street has disappeared.

Another mood swing is yet to come.

…

A fraction of the second was more than enough to make me create the scenario.

A grief tourist in his own battlefield looking for survivors.

A proud but crippled man, lost in the storm of his barely alive nightmares.

A man that knows his weaknesses more than he knows his strengths.

…

And me, giving the answers of undemanded questions.

Portraying people that I will never meet.

Illustrating an unknown among strangers.

But that’s life.

Presumptions that no one dare to share, to imagine.

(Because we like our normality. )

We love having the answers of questions left unsaid.

…

Today, I’m writing a new chapter.

It’s called “The death of a moving man”.