What's wrong Nawid?

She suddenly lets her self fall and sits on the armrest of my chair, putting her hand around me and pulls me towards herself.
"What's wrong Nawid?"
I halfturn and look at her and say nothing. I focus on my work. Again.
She sighs deeply and walks away. The frustration can be read from the way she lifts her arm from my shoulder.

It's not the first time.

Notes of a tragedy

some secrets need to be kept
some stories should never be told
some reasons should not be understood

who needs all the answers?
who needs directions?
who says the truth is gonna save you,
when the truth could be dangerous?

goodby forever,
I don't need you anymore.

Letters in a box

I leave her letters in a box, locked away.
I can't bring myself to throw them away. There is some strange comfort in knowing that they exist, these words from another version of her to a past version of me.
Though I have never read them since we parted ways, I know they were words written in love.

Written for me.