I notice myself
Falling in love
Every day with every
Girl who dares
To show me her face
To spare me a glimpse and
Let me fill my lungs
With her blueberry perfume
Which softly moans:
I love you too
But it will only last
For a second...
Look, it's already
Slipping away.
Or maybe she doesn't?
Maybe she doesn't love
That fraction of tick
Of a beat, which cannot
Even be heard
But it must exist,
Cause butterfly wings,
They make noise
When they flap,
Reflecting the usual
Ray of light from the
Midday's boring sun.
Yes, that exact sound,
The click or the clack
Has to exist,
Cause that is how long
My strongest desire,
My wildest ugly dream
Lasts.
In that fraction of a lifetime
(Who says it has to be
- Poetically -
A worn out fraction of a
Puny second?)
I feel that I live
And to live is to love
Hahaha
I get the tunnel vision,
You know, when you can't
See nothing around
Only the light at the end
Of it
That is her smile.
Oh wait, that shine
Comes from
A chef's knife...
Oh, that's right!
I planned to prepare
The last meal
For the crows
That are impatiently
Waiting, must I say,
Outside.
Goodbye
YOU ARE READING
Poems of a depressed man
PoetrySome poems about everything that comes into the mind of a depressed teenager. Some might be nice and happy (you want proof: have a nice day), some might be harsh and with lots of sick irony (fuck you, how original, no?), just as my life is. One seco...
