This island is small

I remember lying on this bed away from each angry, back then the distance seemed so big

 

Now I lie hear by myself

 

My bed hasn’t felt your body since

 

And it feels small, incredibly small without you

 

I know that’s not physically possible

 

But it sure feels like it in my memories

 

Like some how our beloved little island shrunk

 

It was the only place we could be together without being chased by the sharp tongues, and the condescending glances of the jealous others.

 

It made sense, we named it something in Portuguese and French, after our mother tongues.

 

I haven’t spoke french since then.

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