I’m Loving Another Woman
I’m loving another woman,
and I’m loving her with all the calm
you never gave me.
Now, I understand
that love is this—
to line up
days of happiness,
not necessarily
conquered through endless battles.
She is graceful
and unwavering,
the magic of her steadiness
is so stunning
that I can’t describe it.
With you, I never managed to know that magic.
I’m well—
she has taken
the reins of my life,
my mind,
and brought together
everything,
gave order and meaning
to my home,
became the place where I saved myself.
There are sunny days,
and everyone tells me
I’m a renewed man.
And that’s how I feel—
like I could eat the clouds.
I leave work earlier now
because sometimes I miss her deeply
and just want to see her.
We see each other every day,
but only when I’m with her do I stop thinking about everything else,
and I believe
I could save the world.
So please understand
why I always rush
to hug her as soon as I can.
I don’t love you anymore,
and you don’t love me either,
but I’m writing to you
because when we meet,
I see how you look at me—
and I can also see myself
while looking at you.
Sofi,
I don’t love you anymore,
but you remain
the love of my life.
There is only one
true love in a lifetime,
and we knew it,
we loved it,
and then we stopped
feeling its absence.
But you remain
the love of my life.
It’s hard to explain that to others,
but I completely dissolve
when I see you.
My eyes and heart change,
I become old again.
It lasts just a moment,
because neither I
nor you
can allow ourselves more.
Still, that moment
is always there—
especially when I call
just to know how you are.
That moment is always there,
because you are the love of my life:
the mismatch,
the battles,
the stubbornness—
me with you
and for you—
I would have to endure it all.
If I have to describe love,
I speak of her.
But if I’m ever asked to say something
that goes beyond love,
I would speak of you.
Because you endure,
despite me
having stopped loving you long ago.
