What do you look like in fall, I wonder, what do you wear?
A dark red or a dark green scarf would look very good on you.
Fawn looks very good on you.
Your leather shoes, look good on you.
I won't see which colours your scarves have or if you wear any at all.
I won't be there when the frost bites into your nose, when your cheeks sparcle rosy against the radiant snow.
I won't hold mittens, knowing your delicate hands beneath them.
I won't comfort you at your loss, I won't call out to your bones.
What will I look like this fall, I wonder, which color will my coat be?
And how will the image of me have transitioned in your head?
Will there be a place for me in more than your head?
And your heart is not enough for me...
I want those eyes made of dark chocolate and I need to sink into them in dim-candle light.
I want to eat self-baked cookies with you, and drink hot chocolate oat milk.
Black tea with fresh lemon juice and sugar, over and over, on your carpet, and pull cigarettes out of your mouth an instant before you light them and kiss you instead...
And I won't do any of those things in due time, no more.
I won't.
And alone not.
Or not with you.
I won't see the whirlwind of The Wild One grow.
But I'll grow, I will.
Grow into myself or outgrow myself or shrink to less than I ever was.
// Written on the train (and extended later a bit), 30.07.13, Vienna
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ReplyDeleteohhh, i just have no words.
ReplyDeleteyou're sweet, thanks so much..the saddest part is that all of my deepest fears of those lines have fulfilled themselves. this may sound quite pathetic. but it's simply true.
Delete"... outgrow myself or shrink to less than I ever was." is exactly how i feel most of the time here and definetely in the first months in this country without any kinder aspects.