You would join your hands
to reach silence
your favorite the thick, the dense one,
which only happens at night
and goes out at dawn
to reveal your buried emotions
the superfluous words, the regrets in the folds with clasped hands
Archives par mot-clé : poetry
like tears on the window
let my will melt in the coldness of August, shake off the dust of regret when you open the window, looking at you through the eyes of the rain, a little sad, like tears on the window.
fait accompli
we would be extremely cautious, in the face of fait accompli, let’s be honest and say nothing grave or true. Clenching our teeth would be totally fine.
to do all this*
Doing all of this
that is called life
a little distractedly
while lying in bed
with one’s arms stretching
to the trembling ceiling
*first posted in June 2018, revised in June 2019
her double
The double with tired features
she just spotted
in the mirror
kind of wrinkled
concerned,
had she been waiting forever
to come out ?
(but the hands have not changed)