we sat by
the fire
and waited
for shooting stars
all summer long
all summer long
you saw
many I saw none
I never
knew what you wished for
I wished
for our friendship to never end
I wished for this summer to never end
but I didn't see a single shooting star
I wished for this summer to never end
but I didn't see a single shooting star
so I knew it
could not be
like I knew
everything else in advance
and like everything else I did not admit this to myself
of course
not, how could I have
when every
shooting star before
I mean my whole life, every f*****g shooting star
I mean my whole life, every f*****g shooting star
had been
greeted with
a wish to meet a friend like you
a wish to meet a friend like you
I swam in
the lake
and counted
the fishes
eager to
find a sign
to prove
that we were meant
just like that
meant, as
whatever, care did I not
every form would have been fine with me
the only thing I knew for sure was hooked to "forever"
seventeen fishes, none of them touched my belly
which was not a good sign
fishes should swim so close to touch you
if they wanted to come close to being a good sign
every form would have been fine with me
the only thing I knew for sure was hooked to "forever"
seventeen fishes, none of them touched my belly
which was not a good sign
fishes should swim so close to touch you
if they wanted to come close to being a good sign
you sat by
the shore
staring
your darkness into the ground
until I saw, you had dug a tunnel to the other side
until I saw, you had dug a tunnel to the other side
there was
never a way
I could
have avoided touching you
there was never a way
I could have followed you
there was never a way
I could have followed you
it was
meant and it was over
before it
began
so this is
my last poem for you
because you can not be touched
before I
was born I knew you
it was a
bone thing
therefore
wherever I go
something
will trigger a memory of you
like we had
spent a lifetime together
which we
have, on a pair of cloudy chairs
in front of
a glowing fire
black and
blue the sky around us
filled with
sparkling little lights
waiting to
be our shooting stars© Susanne Becker
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