She called
She cried
I bled
He yelled
He broke
We bled
I stood
They tugged
He crushed
Seperated…physically
Attached…emotionally
Broken souls
Torn dreams
Two roads
One is them
One is I
I choose them
Will they choose I?
It will make me happy,
being miserable with them…
selfish
maybe
but I can’t leave them
longer
In the arms of the storm
In the coldness of those hallways
In the impersonal soul of that house
Where it is winter…all year round…
We still live in the dessert
the warmth of the scorching hot sun
Will never melt that winter
*playing in the background ~ itzhak perlman: chausson poeme*
In olden days I wanted to be a dog, and it happened so that I learned to bark… Are you surprised? I am. Yet that was indeed so and then my window looked somehow alike the photo of your road.
Your poetry revived what was forgotten.
Al above is nothing new except one. THAT’s one and only my secret that you wouldn’t found on my blog. Of course, in case you will visit me one day…
Tomas, I hope the poem revived a positive memory, thought or past. The picture is not mine, I found it online, but it just brought a certain feeling of coldness and destiny.