My world is now yours.
There has always been one flame for you. Poems have been written for you. It was always that one verse that was burning most strongly. That word, mild and warm, that kept igniting and stinging. That word, like a feather, gentle – it was cutting through you. There was always one piece for you. For you, who are tiny and hunched, alone and abandoned. For you forgotten poets. Oh, where are you, slumbering poets!? Write something more! We want you alone, or with someone, both naked and dressed! Where are you, poets…
This has always been for you, for your soul, pain, and condemnation. For your love and silent tear, for your poem and wide smile. All of this is only for you! The flame and the fire, the whole blaze! Both this body and this soul! Only for you, my smile, only for you, my one and only love. This is yours from the beginning to the end. Look at me now, because this is for your joy; for your pain, and for your sadness. This is only for your song. I will sing to you, my love, alone and one – for your spark of joy in the loneliness of sorrow. That sorrow of yours. You will sing again, my love.
Will the stone shed that tear? Will the blood start to flow? I’ll keep spinning until my cheeks and fingers start to blush, and the eyes sparkle. Don’t wait! Go! Go far away and know that I will be there. There will be this turn and fear; there will be that other loneliness; that other dream.
This has turned into something else now. It should have been a love song that emboldens and inspires. The sacrifice that loves. That is loved even when it’s forgotten.
Where is tenderness in my voice? Where is the suffering that heals?
Do I love in the wrong way? Is this a song about me?
Here I am, angry, I suffer, over and over again. And only questions are flying towards the sky.
Why am I singing through my clenched teeth about love? Why am I writing this song with tears, too?
I didn’t fly, I fell down again.
In the verse, in the story, once again I am crawling.
No – I’m dreaming no more.
That’s not done there.
Only to sit and write the bottom is for.