it hurts more because i know i will never see you again
i can be patient with others
but you i will carry
like a stone

soldier

The murmurs of an unspoken language flooded the night and his breathing. Frog like sounds through gnashing teeth and his brother killed in Sarajewo.
The self-service stalls of wooden jewelry all across the country. You pick and pay whatever you like he says and smiles, it is a performance called trust. There is a newspaper article on him, he hands it over in his van and it is all wrinkly and you can tell he has lived with it. Later on he teaches me how to accept and not say thank you, we just are he says, that is enough. Barefoot in the creek just right below the wells. Bending down to gather water in our hollow hands and drink the sweet freshness, sweeter than any water you can find.
I see how his gaze is caressing my body, the hands of a sculptour and he knows, he can tell, when he sees it. Honey dripping off his fingers onto my skin. I writh and breath and try to open the gates of eden but it is grey still around me and silent. His hand stroking the side of my face. He holds my cheek, saying softly you need love. you don't need sex, you need love. His voice almost surprised and his embrace caring. Later he will still say goodbye to me like to a woman, recognizing in me what I haven't quite processed yet. The coffee and water and his gifts to me, so many. My songs pervade the night and pierce the silence between his few words. He was a soldier. He was a soldier. He was there.
And with his hands he can make the most beautiful creations of wood, letting it tell its story through his hands.
And his hands have ended someone else's story one day.
And his dreams are grinding and gnashing his teeth and he finds free parking every day because he was a soldier then.
The eyes of a sculptour, the heart of gold, soft like a big bear and the wisdom beyond compare. Simple he says, and points toward the now. You are my girl, in this now.

i can't describe any of this. she must love him very much and i go my ways.
the sun set over the city in a haze while the sound of the dalmatian coast lulled me to sleep.

shaken

something has happened
my heart is pierced by this pain
you have grown weary of hearing it
but your lips and your soul
looking straight through your eyes
your fighting for a life above
the ground
and in my dream i know
that you knew that all i could do was respect
but never stop loving you

i never do.

loss

she calls him with the same name as i did now.
and she is staking out her claims on a man i so loved
melancholy deep blues is fueling my night
so i go and pack up my eyes
and i run towards
the sunset
i had a friend who now is lost.
she followed her way like swallows finding their way back down to africa
she never stopped and we went our own ways
i miss her so

and i feel the urge to make it look all so pretty. to say, that it was meant that way. to say, that it's truly okay.
because, it is.
but sometimes
it just isn't.
some things just really suck the way they are.

and you could call it greed
or not letting go
or you could also call it care
because as it turns out
i really do give a fuck

sometimes