Archive for August 23, 2014

Trust me he says

When both phones die –
and we are there where the island ends,
ten miles away from civilisation,
in November, and it’s evening, a storm is due,
the tide about to catch us –

I’m sure you will convince me
that all is well. That we’ll be fine.
Though I can see two softly rattling skeletons
wash ashore on the coast of Germany,
six years later. Yours and mine.

Perfect

To me it makes sense
that you have seven socks,
all of them with a hole in the heel

and three of them
also got holes in the toes
but none of them are matching,

and still you fold them
carefully in three folds,
keep them in your drawers,

as deep down
you are a perfectionist
and I love you.

πŸ˜‰

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