The death of a poet...
It's over, just passed
I do not have any words anymore,
let alone sentences.
How can I start something without pen and paper?
How will I love you now?
Maybe I should start singingor knead all the words
until something tangible remains.
An image of the two of us.
You the loyal reader and I a brazen poet
who tries to swim
in the ponds of your bottomless heart.
Help, I'm drowning...
It's over, just passed
I do not have any words anymore,
let alone sentences.
How can I start something without pen and paper?
How will I love you now?
Maybe I should start singingor knead all the words
until something tangible remains.
An image of the two of us.
You the loyal reader and I a brazen poet
who tries to swim
in the ponds of your bottomless heart.
Help, I'm drowning...
©Raes Anja
