you come back to the darkness barely able to walk|
on your broken ankles, so you come back floating from higher
places; you were the same in the heavens as you are now -
a bell ringing out a warm pure tone into the vast emptiness.
you lay across my chest and i press my fingers against the
impossibilities as you ask me tiny questions
and i give you all the wrong answers while i wonder if
each one makes you a little less happy with the little time we have.
maybe if i spoke a different language, or maybe if
my words were clear and sweet like apple wine they would fill you
as if you had devoured me whole with all the oceans i contain,
but instead they come out crackling like an old song on an AM
station - dust has settled in my throat, but the melody's still clear -
it's all i've got - hum it with me while the cat purrs in his sleep.
Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien