23 Mar

Globe and the binoculars, roses in bloom and a few butterflies, old fashion bicycle and a red double-decker bus, one clock and me. Me in my dream.

Throughout the day, coded messages pop up on the mobile phone. Numbers instead of letters – 1111:77, 1331, 1333, 1414, 1441, 1717, 2323. A call from abroad: +331. In a wrong time. On the wrong place.

Why none speaks any more? Where does this silence come from? Who erased the words? Who hide the lust? I don’t dare to ask about love…

What do they try to say? I can’t understand. I won’t even try.

There is something in the refusal, incomplete.
C’mon, leave me, in every departure I learn about myself.
Or come back to me, but come closer and stronger.
Don’t try to invoke storms and lightening, it’s all in vain.
Rain and the sun draw the rainbow in the sky, don’t you know?
Celebrating your existence, my verses give you immortality.


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One response to “22303

  1. janicead

    24/03/2017 at 12:48 am

    This seems dark and foreboding.



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