An attempt with words.
I'm longing for your touch
Can't remember the
Feel of your piano hands
Reading me like braille
I'm searching for your voice
But everything is quiet
This silence is deafening
The shadows have never looked this appealing
They offer a welcoming touch
In the absence of yours
My bookshelf.
My bookshelf
You;
Everything
That this world is not
A bag heavy with love
Constantly on your shoulders
Sprinkle on broken sidewalks
Laughter and a confusion
Belonging to you
Me;
Nothing
Of what I wish to be
Smashed rearview mirrors
And constantly starting over
Playing the same game
With a new dice
My coffin, carefully dressed with secrets
We;
Unknown
Grip, release, dream, forget
A collection of breaths
Jars lined up
Mostly (with)
Yellow tape, your name written in
Blue
Keep filling them up
Or gather dust
This is: chapter one
Pages can still be left blank
A bookshelf holds many li(v)es
But we've only got one
