Some kind of innocence

I lost something along the way, I tell X, on my way to becoming one of life’s losers. Some kind of innocence, I say, some connection. The smell of grass in spring. Mud on the pitches. Warm sand. Forest paths covered with rotting leaves. The burning cold of snow. Shouts and cries. The water, air and earth that surrounded us, engulfed us, me and my friends, people I was linked to. Something got lost along the way, I say, around the time I took up with you. Go away, I say, leave me alone.

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