I’m merely telling you how I felt.
She’s been here for the last two years.
listen and understand
Is my grief your secret pleasure?
I read your letters out loud.
They still contain a lot of secrets.
It’s like huge patterns
crazy about candy as a child.
I held her face and felt the disease
unreasonable dreams and hopes
heavy and gentle and as if enlarged.
gray film got even grayer.
We hadn’t known each other long.
I’ve thought of you so often, every day.
Cookies and mineral water, tape recorder,
but I can’t help thinking
My life seemed meaningless.
flower of her virginity.
“and long hair to your waist.”
It hurts. Hurts. Hurts.
I met you with demands instead of affection.
You trotted out your thoughtfulness
I couldn’t understand your words.
All that was sensitive
Touch me, at least!
Or do some people never live
to believe in limits.
Are you stroking my cheek?
I was brought up with beautiful words.
a horrible picture of myself.
Can’t you put your arms around me?
That soft, torn body
Maybe everything is already too late.
wall, and not a breath of wind.
My faith lives on her terms.
because I hated what was my own.
I bit my nails.
to learn the fingering.
To think I can’t carry her to my bed
commit suicide because of me
There is a kind of mercy after all.
in the name of love and solicitude.
But I want to spoil you.
twitching at her throat muscles.
Everything exists side by side.
hiss of the rain on the roof.
There can be no forgiveness.
He played badly but beautifully.
There was a divine red dress
phone for the ambulance.
you were not in your room.
abortion was the only way.
I don’t know if this letter will reach you.
You managed to injure me for life,
He rang for the night nurse
so you had dresses made