I am not a drinker
but
today I am drunk with pain
hurt,
tears,
and hell
I just think loudly:
- how does it feel to dream of her on the edge of our bed,
I wonder,
how do you feel when you dream of her
while I am breathing like a tired mushroom,
tired of waiting for the wind to blow on the flowers pampered by the sun,
- melted on the edge of the dull bed waiting for your hands to pick it up,
all this time my lungs were full of anticipation
the shoulders filled other times with kisses
now entered the column of infinity,
you don't have to feel bad, or
feel like a liar
what I write here is just a thought for myself:
- I understand,
and I understand that you search for what you alone don't know
when believing that happiness is waiting for you on tender,
and
you told me that you both are cut for each other
and it is not a coincidence you lied to her that we are separated,
and we are married for too long, twenty-six years,
and you opened an account,
what we have is not enough for you,
I understand,
craving for another motherfacker like you,
craving for bigger happiness,
when I am at work 12hours,
you work from home and get bored
every day, I come home
but
you come from skating, like a teenager
you walk our dog with her
and spend coffee, dinner time
when I enter the house you pretending to cook dinner for me,
when I tell: - You are lying to me mather**
you tell me: - you are crazy,
yes,
I do believe lies can make someone crazy
I understand this world got mad,
but
I didn't expect this madness in my home
sneaking in like a ghost
It would have been much simpler if I didn't understand you,
I could scream at you, cry and be hysteric,
threaten you that I will **** you, throw the glasses,
to arouse your pity, pain, and regret that you will lose me,
I understand,
what could you do when I invaded you with so many dreams,
is she also a seamstress, a collector of dreamers, or a matherfucker
I wonder, not that I'm jealous,
why would I be jealous of lies,
I just wonder,
how do you dream about her? -
where the thought enters her,
through narrow eyes like shirt cuffs,
or lips as thin as the edge of a glass,
or through the torn heart like a fir tree,
or you fly, as we ones
do you remember
how you told me on the small, narrow bed in the student dormitory
crowded and happy:
”My love, all your dreams are mine."
I wanted today to write a letter and thank this person for doing me a big favor and freeing me from a lier
Please take him
and keep him
as a gift