In my next life I am going to be a bird
not because I would fly
but because I wouldn't be human.

I wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone
or wonder,
or cry.
(To be honest I don’t know if birds cry – do they?)

I would not think too much
and act too little.

I would make my life simple
as simple as possible.

I would eat
drink
fly.
(I’d FLY a lot)
…and simply live for tomorrow.

I know I’d enjoy every second of it.

UNLESS…

**…unless he wants to become a bird in his next life as well!

Then I am *******.

He says he loves her
and then looks away…

She wants to ask him
why,
how,
when,
but he changes the subject…

She has to go along with it
pretend,
share,
think
…and laugh.

Then he goes back and asks her
“Do you love me?”

What should she say?
He knows she loves him to the moon and back.
She loves him much…

And she wants to admit it.
…so she says YES
but then he laughs
they both laugh.

**Ahh ‘the clichés we’re talking about’ he says
and again…changes the subject.

Watching you walk
and talk
and laugh
…it hurts.

Knowing you’re here today
and might be away tomorrow
…it hurts.

Hearing you call my name
out loud
on the clouds
feels right
but …it hurts.

Seeing you look at me
and shiver
tremble
and stumble
…it hurts.

Because you’re not supposed to see
nor look
nor feel
for real
therefore…it hurts.

And you know
and I see
and we don’t say a word
but still…it hurts.

Yet nobody knows…how it hurts.