All the old cliches of loveLet me on this fine day, my loveUndermine all the old clichés of love for youThey say that love will give you wings,I truly hope this is not true,What use would I have of such cumbersome appendages That let me leave the cold and bitter worldI always used to wander inYet when I look back over my shoulderIt seems to me some bright white feathers growUpon which I can soar into the heavens with youThey say that love will set you on fireWhat utter nonsense is all this?Still cold are my ears, my thumbs and kneesMy ankles and my toes and my pretty little noseAlthough once again I have to admitThat other parts of me are heating up qu
there is something ...There is something special about longing, right?One feels sort of stretched, reaching for the object of one's desirebut never really getting thereand it hurts in a way that is just unique for longingThere is something typical about sadness, right?One feels sort of crushed,Smashed into oneself, bruisedNever really getting out of itAnd it hurts in a way that is just unique for sadnessThere is something quite typical about joy, right?One feels kind of floating,Flying above oneself, elatedNever really touching the groundAnd it makes one soar high in a way that is totally unique for happinessThere is something typical
Sta.sh
