dark cold lonely friday night

in the dim light while listening john coltrane’s “naima” and chet baker’s “my funny valentine”.

a smile on the face.

another drag of the stick.

smokes blown from the nose, and from the mouth.

another smile.

trying to hide the tears.

in longing of the love.

a person.

loved a little less.

probably not at all.

now.

it was different then.

when the ray of morning light used to make the best view.

when the sun light touches the face.

when the words were uttered.

the comfort.

lying on someone’s arm.

face close to each other.

the sweet hug from the back.

those wonderful lovely few days.

love was made and love fades.

a person loved a little less.

fingers became numb.

hiding the tears that forced itself to shed.

a tremble.

a shiver.

night gets colder.

heart gets sadder.

light another stick.

a feeling not everyone will understand.

loved a little less.

then love fade away.

moon refuse to shine.

heart refused to warm.

now, everything changes.

circumstances remained unfavourable.

music plays on.

“naima” …

“my funny valentine”…

fingers shivered.

heart wept.

loved a little less.

now, not loved at all.

for all that matters.

tears … will be shed.

by a person …

loved a little less.

if not at all.

not any more.

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