It is not over, but the evening clouds
in sweeter shades of blood
make it bearable to have you not here.
Where you are, is the same light,
maybe you are watching
the same clouds, thinking of me.
Do you see how the face of that king
changes into the map of France now
and back to a face with no name.
There is no chance, how could we be together,
but we are together, even apart.
See how we move on like changing clouds
in denial of our hearts. In sweet colours.
Like a lost bird in bitter cold snow,
this feeling I have is, and it won’t leave.
Like a song that is waiting
in melody fragments,
cannot explain why you needed to hurt me
when I mistook you for being kind.
Like a joke everyone understands but not me.
Like a word that won’t come, or a line that has gone
from the back of my mind.
Like a final false note ending it sadly,
over I mean, it is over and done.
trying out metaphors. 🙂
At last we were us, in a bed after doing it,
after the talks, the drinks and the fights,
nights were no longer awkward for doing it,
the past let us be for more than a while.
We had the red tea and croissants to celebrate,
you made a song that you played with a smile.
At last we had found a first time for doing it
no more fears stuck with it, love conquered hate.