ِزعابيب أمشير

I see so much more colours.
I am surrounded by books and music again.
It is like switching from bitter, blunt black coffee with no chances of cream to a delightful cup of raspberry tea with macaroons on the side.

You were unable to accept the fact that I liked downtown cheap bars as much as I liked high end Zamalek hang outs.
You were unable to understand that I can go fight marginalization and intolerance in Upper Egypt on my weekend but go relaxing on a Sinaii beach the next one.
You were unable to absorb all the package that is me.
My world was too big for you.
Your world was too limited for my taste.

I can't seem to understand why can't you move from the place where I keep loved ones to the place where I keep the unimportant.
Why are these still matters of the heart and not old memories that I flinch at remembering and move on?
Why can't I move from the phase where my heart is grapes being crushed for fermentation to the place where I can sip the wine with my medium/rare steak?

I want my coffee back, with a hint of caramel and a dash of vanilla.
But you can't give me that.
And I, will never forgive you for it.