Lobe den Tag

I wonder where the voice is this patient loving voice in my head embracing the universe with all its flaws – I used to love different piles of laundry the blue pile, the red pile, the green pile – I could relax putting pieces of dirty laundry on the right pile filling the laundry machine with red or green or brown or black with an illusion of there might actually be a system behind all of this and I might actually get it one day patience and a certain love for open questions used to be alright for me - not anymore most things in life are unresolved most of the time it did not bother me I knew life was a bitch and I was willing to wait for my destiny I could sit out life easily - not anymore and yet I know this is again not about me if I can not get down to the deepest heart of what really matters what really matters what really matters keep breathing what really matters is you...

I wrote a love letter about what has yet to happen there could be a kiss maybe under the full moon into the valley of thoughts my yearning for you feels like a runaway deer deep down in a silent winter forest I even love you when you yell at me! I am really good at love letters. In my head I write one to you every day. In my hand a tear gathers strength (sidenote, sorry: I am happy and grateful to be human and therefore able to cry. How else would I process all my feelings?) (additional note to myself, sorry, I will continue with my poem right after this, but this is important: should cry more, much more, definitely) What has yet to happen? a kiss a touch I wrote a love letter to you into my open palm tears washing over the syllables like waves on the beach I read it to the cat my voice shaking the cat purring  I wrote a love letter to you and never send it off because every w...