The Sky Also Gets Depressed…

The sky grew tired of being blue…

Now it’s a chameleon that lives to surprise…

It holds its breath every evening, when the sun leaves it behind…

The sun is an elusive lover, who doesn’t stay with it at the end of the day when it paints tones that no amateur could ever emulate…

Sweet, salty, acidic, are the drops of another spilled rain…

The pale moon, its confidante, offers comfort on nights when insomnia takes hold of the firmament…

It doesn’t complain, seeks to please anyone who plays with its clouds, or feels the greatest abandonment of this world…

Today it wants to be green, to pretend it’s the lost leaf of the tree in winter, to abandon the sun, the moon, and go far away…

It’s there that the tree and the sky are so alike, they cry, suffer, and endure losses in the same way, silently…

Like losing love amidst forbidden caresses in an intense exchange of glances at the train station…

The sky also gets depressed…