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…
She talks and I don’t listen to the words.
She talks and I hear only the voice;
Soft,
A warm blanket,
A hug;
A soothener, an anti-depressant.
It's better than the greatest singers,
And the stupid birds making noise.
It's better than hugging a pillow
To sleep.
She's a marvel,
A walking lullaby.
She's soft, yet able to bend iron.
She's short, yet able to dunk.
She's light;
A soft but strong presence.
She's wind;
Both calm and destructive.
She talks and I don’t listen to the words.
She talks and I hear only the voice;
Soft,
A warm blanket,
A hug.
But I'll need one from her now;
A Real one.
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