sâmbătă, 26 august 2017


Photo: desnudamento-ser.tumblr.com
I'm tired of always having to bury the people I love
But I have to, otherwise they would fill me with disease
With disease and with desire
And the dead, they can't stay more than a few days in the sun
They can't stand the light in my house and, other than that,
They stink.
So I ask them to remove the body,
I clean the house and I patiently wait.
What for?
For the pain, of course.
For the pain to come
For the pain to go away. 
I never go to the funerals
I don't need to see them again
I don't need a final goodbye
I don't need any of that.
Once the beloved is gone
There is nothing left to do
Than prepare the bed sheets only for one
And the breakfast too.
All the weekends
And all the happy time
The time in general
I sit for days and prepare time
As if I would sew my laundry
My broken laundry
Gloves and socks
Only for one
Never in pair
As if he was never there.
So I clean the house and patiently wait.
But the pain is never patient
And it never goes away
And the smell either
They never go away.
There is still someone dead in my house
And that someone is me.

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