still frame

I’m the lady with an ermine in her arms/ I turn my eyes away from the world’s misery/ I prefer to be captured than to get stained/ teardrops are too dirty for my cheeks/ look at me from one side – I prefer to turn into stone/ while you take a picture of me and place me in a frame/ because the virtue of a woman doesn’t exist without the love of a man/

when you get used with an older love
with the way he pampers you my dear
with the joy to warm your fingers in his sweater
and other little wild things
you walk stumbling
the soles of your feet get stuck into old boots
and you cannot take them out
you walk like a madcap with someone else’s feet
every morning when you make two coffees
until you realize that he’s gone
leaving the keys hidden under the entrance mat

then you feel that you’re a part of the dirt in a trivial world like any other love story
replayed in slow motion

 

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Categories: My poems in 2016, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

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