Going home.

Woke up early, everything was prepared for leaving for the airport.

On the way there I felt her presence, next to me, but we didn't do much taking.

Only the shine of the full moon to watch over us.

Will I ever see her again, this girl that has showed me so much? This was a thought that kept

working it's way to the front of my mind.

Finally there were no tears, just a warm goodbye, as

I turned and left, remembering not to turn around to look at her, as she asked.

I arrived at a empty house, the house looked like it had lost its soul.

It was again turned back into a wooden box,

only made to protect people from the elements of nature.

But her footprints in the snow still remain, left as a memory of her, telling me the truth... she is gone.

The leaving.

She came to see me, as she was finishing her studies in Europe with a trip from the north to the south Europe. At first I was very reluctant to meet her, as our past together had not always been a happy one to say the least.

Last time I saw her and also left her, I left her in a country strange to both of us. I left for my born country, after a year in exile. A year, that started with high hopes, and ended in low self-esteem and broken bonds.

So, my uncool ed love and friendship for her, made it impossible for me not to meet her. And, now, after one and a half year, she is back.. for a while...

We smile, laugh and we cry, but the crust on the scars made
before is still very thin, and blood surfaces once again.