it’s sadness that we are missing
and what if you just slip
from the edges of my lips
which are pointing down
and were never made for kissing?

in another dimension
my books are lying on your books
sharing the same shelf and even our
afternoon teas are boiling in a common
teapot
but in this life it’s a bad timing
when my hand skin is rough
and my fingers not long enough
to be a real artist
I keep nothing in a jar
and I didn’t write with my blood
a book – not even one
so it is a bad timing to fall in love
and be a writer

you can only have my hands for a while
and pretend you are palm reading
while the paths in my palms don’t take me
away
tо а distant island
where my soul is long stolen
by the songс of the mermaids of the unknown
and where I can pretend to be a writer
a lover
or even a housewife

a sigh from another dimension
ss all we are now
and don’t you ever try
to pull the edges of my smile
tt is not a common shape
neither for a rainbow
nor for the paths I must live with.
let’s just meet in аnother dimension
and build a house with our palms
for all those who wander
and have their lips truly kissed
by the winds and the
silence
only

(just like you and me)