Man Of Your Word

In the notebook, there are several rough notes about love that knows how to wriggle out of things: every “I'm sorry” sounds like a broken record, and empty promises weigh heavier than rings on fingers. The feeling that love was first taken for weakness, then for a lesson, and now a blessing - a child - coexists with bitter irony: the lesson has been learned, but the price is written in small print. Music was at the forefront, but the truth was in the playlist of night calls: some things remained in memory, others in the pocket of former hopes. Warm and without malice: wishes for happiness in someone else's life sound like a polite toast - sincere and slightly surprised by its own gentleness.