We had talked but said nothing,
your words were doves whose wings
ruffled around my ears,
making no sense;
my words were sponges,
absorbing everything I felt,
soaked with emotions,
making no sense.
We talked for hours
till the doves flew away
and the sponges were drained.
You drank your coffee
and left me wondering
why it is so hard to use sentences
when the truth should be said.
I saw how you hurried through rain
to catch a tram,
and words came to me at the same moment
you went out of sight.
Your doves flew over the rooftops
going the opposite direction of you
and the waitress used one of my old sponges
to wipe the formica table.