Tell her how you used to count my ribs with your tongue to make me laugh.
Tell her of that time we were at the beach and we saved a turtle’s life. Tell her of that time we fell asleep together at the woods, and woke up to find a squirrel snuggled up next to us.
Tell her of that time we stole dishes and glasses from the supermarket because we had no money. Tell her how the next day we had a huge party and all of them got broke.
Tell her of that time you made a surprise dinner for me at the roof of our apartment, and a storm fell on us but we still stayed, and everything got wet and I’ve never tasted anything that good. Your lips were wet and I’ve never tasted anything so good.
Tell her about the time we fell off the scooter in the streets of Paris, and we both skinned our elbows at the same place. Show her.
Tell her how every time some of my friends or your friends would come to visit us, we would rent an hotel room and escape, just so we could still have sex every day.
Tell her how you used to take hundreds of pictures of the way my hair was always all over my face.
Tell her about that time you invited me to our favorite restaurant, and then told me over the Bordeaux wine that you had met someone else. And you had already moved all your things out of our apartment. Tell her how the wine ended up in your hair and clothes, and the waiter complained in French about what a waste that was, it was, if I could go back i would drink it and slap you…
Tell her how i stopped eating, and you thought it was funny.
Tell her how i called you a couple of times crying, more than a couple, a dozen more like it, and you never answered.
Tell her how i texted you that time my house caught fire and when my grandfather died and you never answered.
And tell her how when my calls stopped coming you started trying to reach me. I had changed my number by then, you went crazy trying to find it.
Tell her how you found out i had a new boyfriend and spent 3 hours drunk yelling and singing at my window, until my neighbors had to call the cops.
Tell her how you called my friends and asked them not to let me come near your wedding, you couldn’t see me. You just could not. You were afraid.
Tell her you still keep all those pictures of me in a pink box at the back of your closet, with your grandmother’s gold chain and your dad’s watch.
Tell her I was the first person you called when she lost the baby, and you wept with your arms around my stomach like a child.
Tell her you miss me, be honest.
Tell her you still call me when you are drunk, you come knocking at my door every once in a while. And you ask all our old mutual friends about me, tell her of that text you send me one Saturday at 4 am. about how my little girl should be yours…
Oh, but she knows, she already knows…
She loves you and she is no idiot, a woman in love is better than fortune tellers and detectives, she can read it on your face like a map.
Tell her you still love me. Let’s make it real.
Tell her you dream about me. And it kills you, because most dreams are memories.
Tell her you made the wrong choice. And now you can’t live with it, or yourself, or her.
Or don’t, she already knows…
The way back to the past is forever closed. It’s now a lifetime too late anyway.
Tell her to have a strong drink and her arms ready for you.
Because tonight when you come to me
The answer will still be no.
It will always be no.
The way back to the past is forever closed,
and the way back to broken hearts is too…