Do you remember that day at the market?
Walking around the stalls.
And there, by chance, I saw you.
That Thursday.
You greeted me.
A little surprise.
A little ‘no.
We talked.
As always of your events.
As always for you.
Do you remember that day at the market?
“What are you doing on Saturday?”
“I want to be alone with you.”
To be happy and radiant.
Like never before I felt.
Plan the future with you.
You too were calm and trusting.
Close a part of your life.
To open another one.
You remember that day at the market.
Among the people talking about us.
Among the stuff to imagine us.
Between the way to dream of us.
But then the reality.
Reappeared again.
Hard and raw: as always between us.
Do you remember that day at the market?
It was one of the last moments between us.
Your face a little swollen.
Two more days and it would all be over.
We never realized this.
But, that day at the market.
I bought the memory.
I sold the future.
I lost you.
Do you remember that day at the market?
He was the happiest.
He became the saddest.
That day at the market.