Something old, something blues.

(Watching some old videos of Billie Holiday)


Sadness when seeing old pictures of you and me, looks like an old movie with minor tonality, scraped memories of times without imagining an ending to come...

Sometimes thinking (whishing u) of your unhappiness to match mine, hating things that we used to like or do together...But that is the price of loosing something old and is something that makes me blue.


The joy of past times and a past live, together dreams going along (now) in different paths, different ways...


Damned echoes of laughs that keeps me awake or wake me up in the middle of the night, searching for your body next to mine, so sad “travelin’ light”


Sweat sweet dreams that fall apart constructing new ones, something new, something golden that shines after what was left of something old, something blues.


“Ma man don’ love me” (on the radio). Anymore will be able to say we, so you (and me) are in front of the past, trying to forget something old, facing the future something like blues. “Awful mean” those past happenings which I saw and see.

And it isn’t “summer time” anymore, a long winter came, frizzing down the sadness in the ground and the “strange fruits” (love) are frozen in the trees, nothing or anyone to come outside and play just wishing (inside) to be listen and prays.


There isn’t poetic or sad song that would sing my blues, not even the real old ones from the slave’s hearts, twisted mellow sounds in the background, distorted ideas of what was supposed to be there in the coming future like the “moon brewin’” hopes so hard to believe because I can’t touch (u) what I can’t see.


What I see right now? All I see around is myself in my “solitude” singing alone the old blues.