Archive for November 13, 2013


Sisyphus kept trying but how many times
he tried to move the rock up on the hill.
‘I am the man who moved the stone,
I know my goal, my effort may be so in vain
but I am trying for your love,’ you said comparing.

Your time on Earth was penalty and fall;
my times with you are more mundane in café meetings,
in whispers sepia and silence.
All I carry with me from our love
are lies so heavily a burden on my shoulders:

such burdens, atrocities and more, but always
I found you back again, your touch. My Sisyphus.
I keep the rocks that you have moved in secret boxes.
They are what matters to me most,
what holds and carries on my shoulders.

What more would love be anyway:
the necklace captures all of me,
you don’t weigh much in memory,
and I’ll await you up there, when
finally you’re there to meet me on the hill.


You went lost on the crowded platform,
before you could give me the red roses,
I waved without seeing you,
it was goodbye for ever
without a real ending.

The train started moving.
Alone, the crowd now gone
I walked away in the opposite direction.

When I looked back,
I noticed a rose lying on the rails.
Had you thrown it out of the window?

It got crushed by already another train,
the red confetti making blood stains in the sky.

By then your train had slowly faded in cadence:
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

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