Well Wishes - In The Time Of Death - Says

I'm here to tell you that I'm

I came to tell you I'm
Yeah I'm sorry to tell you that
OF I'm
Because you told me too much.

Serge Gainsbourg. I wanted to meet you. ... And yet you're ugly.

I wanted you to know. Because you belonged to a future time, and you dared do and say in public what the others thought immodest. I love your face, your messy hair, nonchalant your approach, your singing voice, your definition of love and your words plainly.

I specially sensitive to a particular song: "I'm here to tell you I'm going. "Paradoxical

Words that make me almost ill. Because at your farewell, Serge, I believe only half. Why would you go to confront the woman you love ... if you really left her?

And I find myself in these words. Because that's what I do. Every time. I may be crazy.

Yes, I'll find him. I'll see when my skin rejects it, while my heart hates him, while my reason it is more reason.

I'll find him. And as I am ashamed of what I do, I shall advance this excuse as low as pathetic, I can not find that to say that I leave.

I give him an appointment as for the injury. But it hurts me that I first.

I mistaken my pride and my pride, and I treat myself to a moment at his side, convincing me that it is better for me to go. This time for good. This deserves a final insult.

I find myself facing him, and I offer him a face cleansed by tears, I told him it's over, and this time I succumbed to its charm. He nods

as I knew. He smiled as I feared. And I swear to myself never to return.

And yet ... and yet ... I will return. I know. But still ... just to tell him I'm going.

game unhealthy and destructive. From an impossible love but so predictable. Because I resource at his side. And I did that kiss for release.

Yes, I leave. And I'll go see it to tell him. Thousand times if necessary. To make sure he understood my words.

So I walk. I walk without looking back. A little to do as Gainsbourg. ... Who loved him that long.

I'll go see it. One last time. This time is the charm. I'll go see it and I'll tell him out loud. I will not answer the phone. I met another man. And it's over now.

But like the song, I remember the happy days and I cry. So I'm going to check, in cons heart, there is really no hope of saving the past.

And then a smile. A casual caress. A look pushy. An endearing memory. A fragile promise. A passionate kiss. Make me forget everything. These wounds that I'm inked forever. These betrayals I thought insurmountable. These mood swings that broke my heart.

Yes, I forget everything. And I just tell you ... I tried. Really. I tried all my life. But I can not really leave.

And when I go ... only for better return.

Beirut. ©