Soul Writers

ፍቕረይ, I remember that you lips were cherry red, When you said, “I’m hungry for your lips.” Maybe I was dreaming but I remember a lot of other pretty little things, Like an impossible rose unfurling from your mouth, As you said you loved me, and that beautiful music kept on getting infinitely loud. Maybe it might just be in dreams but I held your hands in mine too, It’s hazy but I remember us walking and hearing people whisper, “look at those inseparable two.” With a smile painted on every single face. It might have been just a dream but I remember kneeling down to tie that one shoe’s lace. I don’t know, it might have been, and it sounds absurd and ominously misplaced, But I remember that you didn’t disappear without a detectable trace. That your scent stayed with me, That “you and I have been and forever will be.” That “one heart beats for the other.” It sounds insane but I remember driving in absolute fear on my way to meet your mother, To ask her for your hand, To tell her that her daughter is the only reason I stand, And her welcoming me into the family with happy tears in eyes, And I fighting back tears, “cause a grown man never really cries.” I also remember kneeling in front of you one more time, under a sky so blue, And you thinking, “here he goes again, about to tie my shoe.” And I pulling out a ring, And hearing the heavens sing. And… አዬ! ፍቕረይ, ተይው ተይው. That doesn’t sound like you. አይ አይ. እውነት አይመስለኝም, it’s far from being true. It might have been a dream. It must have been a dream! Only a wretched dream.