when the sun sets
and the birds get quit
when the moon shines bright,
everyone knows you lied.
when it gets dark outside
and the stars show up
you start to feel lonely,
even in a crowded club.
when windows get closed
and people go to sleep
you know,
the truth is the only thing you need.
every conversation at night is
more deep, more real, more true.
we say words that were never meant to leave our own minds but now are shared with another one.
at night, we say what we really feel,
without hesitation, without guilt.
and even though we regret it in the morning
our words are locked in the fog of the night, the stars and the moon and in the silence above our sleeping houses.
maybe night is the only time of the day, where we really permit our feelings to show on the surface, even the ones we try to hide when the sun shines in our faces.
we tell and explain and ask and communicate as if there wasn't this invisible curtain of shame and embarrassment.
and you know it's true,
because you do it, too.
YOU ARE READING
poetrythunderstorm
PoetryKennst du das? Wenn dir pausenlos tausend Gedanken im Kopf herum schwirren und es sich irgendwann so anfühlt, wie ein großer Haufen Spaghetti, den man einfach nicht mehr entwirren kann? Oder wie ein heftiges Gewitter, das durch deinen Kopf wirbelt...
