There’s an air about you. Sometimes, at least once in a blue moon, it’s about to get out.

It needs to be swallowed, you know it. Some things you just have to keep hidden. Some things, you can’t deny but can’t admit to. It’s no one’s fault.

It’s like a vessel inside. Always need to be careful not to spill. Even while walking. Quietly. Even while looking. Silently. Even while touching. Without a word.

And they are like fog around you. Sometimes, it prevents you from seeing. You can’t see even them. Or the woods for the trees.

           have you forgotten?

Just you keep laughing. Laugh so much that it hurts. So no one will see there’s more of you.

                    Don’t let anyone think                         you’re crazy.

                                       Don’t let anyone imagine                                  you’re lying.

                                                           Don’t let anyone, ever understand                      the truth.

When you hear something that meant something to you once, something you know now even better, don’t hear. If anyone ever says my name in front of you, ask about something else.

Whatever you’re thinking, it’s normal, everyday things. The truth is weirder, and a cliché. Don’t break them. Just keep them hidden.

             do you still know me?

Every time you stop to think, you feel someone behind you. Someone, who keeps squeezing your heart. Not tightly. But doesn’t let go.

It doesn’t really bother you. It doesn’t hold you back. Doesn’t even slow down. They’re going to go along, wherever you go, whatever you do. Effortlessly.

But they’re not just you. So there’s a feeling, like an elastic band. A delay. Only slightly uncomfortable.

You’re burning to think backwards. You can’t help stepping back. Step by step.

                    If you could only figure out everything, you forgot…

But…                                                                                                                                                                                   who would listen, then?

                    I remember.

There’s quite many of us. You know, don’t you? None of us are allowed to ask. Not even the ones who only know how to ask. No one is allowed to tell. Not even you, who doesn’t do anything else. What can I do, when I can’t do either? I should think you know.

                    I left you a code.

Back to: Poetry

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *