60
The moon is bright
SIXTY
birds, cats, bats, light
familiar with the night
a screen, a keyboard, my sight
With knowledge or with nothing at all
There is something waiting
for me to let go
words flow
Black clothes
warm bed
the same position
a mind set
A river of ideas
water are my thoughts
the world is lonely
when nights are cold
All I am
goes into words
some days just one
sometimes three dots
Birds sing at 3 am
the screen is still on in front of me
they realize it's too early
I know they go back to sleep
So before the moon leaves too
sometimes it's not just me
we're two
the one that I have in mind or what I feel too
It doesn't have to make sense
It just has to feel right
music in the background,
cold comes the night
Windows are open
courtains are not dark
I rather be following the moon
than staring to the wall
A world alone
A place to let go
A space of my own
A peace that's unknown
And some nights
I think it all could end
Rejecting me from the world outside
the terrible mistake of depend
Denying myself
the good human that I know I am
but like every other I think "It's never enough"
asking "Am I just as good as others? Am I good enough?"
shit is part of life
the sooner you accept it, the sooner you're fine
After all
this is what is with me
what I see I write, what brings me down is what I'm stuck with
this is it, now you see what I see
30.11.15
4:04am
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
SIXTY
Sixty was the age you never reached
Sixty like you I wouldn't like to reach
Sixty times more lonely I don't want to live
Sixty and lot more we could have lived
Sixty and a lot more times you've been in my dreams
Sixty which I may not remember but I've dreamed
Sixty, you never got there
Sixty we didn't celebrate and you don't know how it feels
Sixty times faster my heart beats while I write this
Sixty is the number of this post
Sixty times I've been sitting somewhere talking alone
Sixty years in this world maybe it was too much
Sixty and more tears I have cried 'cause I love you and miss you so much
Sixty was the age you never got to meet
Sixty minutes, twenty four hours, seven days a week, you live in me.
11.30.15
4:25am
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Comments
Post a Comment