Yesterday we talked about it, about all that needs to get done.
The light upstairs which keeps on flashing, whenever it desires.
We spoke about the dirty mirrors and the seat that needs a scrub.
Today the windows seem to burst under the frosting here inside, I must have felt the chill I guess, just never thought they wouldn't last…
the floor was trembling under weight of boxes we both just left unpacked.
Our love seems to be the damaged lightbulb that keeps popping off and on.
My dear, we could just sell the place for whatever it is worth or clean up the mess and fix that goddamn light…
JE LEEST
Come what may
Poetryain't it wonderful how we hold on to life by simply finding something worth living for? and even stranger it is that it might be that in that very specific search for happiness that we end up finding something completely different...
