Amour Fou


see the emptiness
alone in a sick bed.
the daylight pains me with
with a terrible doubt:
When love is not reciprocated,
And sweeps so gently

It’s the flowers.
letters or messages,
Those are the bells of life.
Which silences pain and woe
This also includes intercourse.
a mystery here.

sadness is deep and incurable,
arises within me
she had fled from him
gently the wind
my dearest friend, my heart’s blood,
I shall be as silent as a grave.

Softly sleep the primroses
full of mistrust.
freedom is a trick.
It sank and died
could I ever forget you.
But I intend to

we are in the darkness.
not an imaginary one.
You love nothing,
Yes, there is hope,
Look inside
also feel another.

my crown,
my meadows and vineyards.
my loneliness
I am yours now.
I catch butterflies.
Their bittersweet scent

So I spend my evenings
Where the clouds spread
To the forest’s depths
Beneath her darling feet
Blinded, selfish,
The two are connected,

I agree that life is meaningless
has caused the faintings and spasms
and extent of her illness.
making me anxious and sad.
enough to read my poetry,
to tell me face to face

Rise from the lowering skies
you dear and sensitive man.
Who sang
tormenting questions.
Or for the fainting
arms around his neck,

I think of you constantly.
My inner pain
my precious stone,
in the lower abdomen,
see the emptiness
call it admiration.


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