I got used to

 
I got used to occupying the whole bed when I slept,
to stretch out my dreams, to let silence tuck me in at night
tuck me in at night, in no hurry to flee,
like a luxurious coat of soft disconsolation.
I don't cook on Sundays, the aroma is gone,
my flavours are free in this cold kitchen,
time stands still, there's no longer a motive
that dictates my steps, that demands my day.
I return at the time I feel like it,
the city lights are golden accomplices,
the laughter of friends, in early chats,
my soul is sacred.
I got used to not giving explanations,
my decisions are breezes that fly aimlessly.
The echo of my longings, in soft sensations,
envelop me in calm, in this vast world.