Ne me quitte pas
Night
flows
in
its bed
towards the light
I
smell your skin
sprinkled with ginger
- in silence -
audible
as a panorama
rain
-lost-
folklore
of September
bored
to death
stands perpendicular
on
the horizon
anguish
like a goldfish
swims around
in
endless circles
10-02-2007 om 14:54
geschreven door bo
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