nedeľa 21. septembra 2014

Em

gentle intruder – shy – but persistent
I‘m barely awake, caught up
in a state of not-knowing, not-thinking
the world does not exist – yet
your arm around my waist
is my first reality

I caress streets with my shoes alone
inhale thousands greetings
rooms buzzing with questions
rooms impatient for answers

usually they survive the paperstorm
and I return with green and blue scars on my hands

we sit
smell of coffee permeates the air
clashing with the tea leaves in your pots
quick words hang on your tongue
meant for other people and another day

your arm around my waist
is my first reality