The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
Night,
Lamps,
The stones on the ground gleam.
A street
like it was taken out of Sherlock Holmes' London;
And we walk on it,
Hand in hand,
Hands getting cold,
Wanting to look at each other and look away at the same time.
Our hearts pound
And our lips don’t shape words.
Nothing happens,
But this moment fills me.
Nothing happens like I expected,
But this moment is giving me so much.
A bird pecks at the window of my heart,
There is straw emptying my soul.
Yet I feel full,
And I know you feel the same too;
Like this moment cannot end.
We have only our crappy lives to return to
When it ends.
This moment is both beautiful and ugly;
Like black ink splashing on white paper.
This moment is both alarming and easing;
Like an alarm clock.
This moment is a bright sunrise
That makes the tiny birds stick out amid the colour.
But I don’t want it to rise further.
Why can’t it stay?
Comments
Post a Comment