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Personal Note:

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Poem

Here we part ways, dear. Sorry, excess makes me sick.
You'll visit me one day as an anticyclone.
We ate cheese drinking Port wine few times a week,
Used to chip in for a new bottle like brothers.
From now on we'll no longer see one another.
I will remember you silly, skinny and weak,
Eighteen, a bit drunk and without a real mother.  

We knew only excess, there was no middle ground.
You were cute when you laughed. I still recall the sound
Of days at the faculty when like kids we sat
On beige worn-out window-sills to enjoy a chat.
Each his own boss, yet a whiner with a cola.
We part ways here, dear. It's that around
The corner you continue solo.

I won't come to read the burial. There's green grass
And a lake. The car's in the bush, after you pass
The fill. I don't recall how I made it out alive at eighteen.
I don't know how it feels dying at twenty two even if keen.
See you not-soon! Hard to catch up with you, frizzy.
I watch your back as you leave and feel so dizzy.

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