I sincerely do.
I don’t know though,
If you know me,
If this love is mutual.
I hope so.
But whichever way it is,
I had to tell you anyways,
No matter what.
I couldn’t keep it for myself
Secrets make me sick.
My love for you was a secret.
No one knew.
Even I didn’t for a long time.
It wasn’t until spring, of course, that I found out.
The day of the Studio Sessions,
In one of the performer’s studios,
Close to the city’s big Turkish market,
He was talking about creating a communal
Spirit of caring & caressing,
You came early.
So did I.
I made this a habit.
Because I am scared of
Disturbing the routine of a performance
You immediately started talking to
The girl who was doing the cash desk,
I suppose you knew her, since you’ve
Been working with the very same people
For quite a while know.
(I was also quite sure, that you’d know the performer too,
Which you did, of course)
I realized that while you kept talking to her,
You were noticeable giving me looks.
I am not sure,
If those were looks
Checking me out
Simply just saying
I remember you.
We met once or twice.
You are a friend of Veza’s, right.
Didn’t I see you at one of last year’s
Festival pieces with her, the one maybe
With Cards scattered across the floor,
All of them reading different scores
Like for example
my sensations feel different from yours
Or maybe I remember it wrong,
And it was somewhere else.
It was giving me shivers.
Making me feel uncomfortable
And attracted at the same time.
I started searching for something
To say, something that would get me
Into a conversation with you,
Something that would bring me even
Closer to your attention.
But I would let every chance you gave me
I still don’t know why.
Maybe I was scared of messing it up.
Maybe that people would immediately know
(which would have made me feel embarrassed)
Maybe that you’d find any of the things I’d say
inappropriate, out of context or simply just stupid.
By the time I had thought all the different scenarios
Through, the chance was already long gone.
We were invited into the studio,
Everyone could take a seat
And at least I did that.
Right beside you.
We were already a bit into the discussion,
When I had my moment of awakening.
(I can’t put it any other way. This is truly how it felt.
So why not use the big guns?!)
This is when I fell in love with you,
can I call you Frans?
(or should I call you someone else?)
I think of you every morning.
I think of waking up
Right beside you,
Still watching you sleep,
My hands covering your chest,
As if trying to keep you safe,
Trying to keep myself safe,
I don’t wanna let you go,
I don’t wanna let go,
I am writing you every morning.
I am trying to make it a routine,
just like it had been in New York.
But it’s not a novel.
This is not a novel.
We are not a novel.