the room is filled with nothing but my darkness
i cannot distinguish if it's blood or ink that is dripping off my fingertips
but i know that the papers i am supposed to paint my love sick poems about you on, are now smeared with heartfelt agony
in the quietness of the dark i am used to live in, i can hear myself breathing softly and sometimes it sounds like i'm panicking in complete calmness like the heat of madness is just from the inside while my body is getting colder
but as soon as i close my eyes i am hovering in another dimension which rests in total delight
and you are there, too
reminding me of the days i was too thrilled to recognize i am breathing at all
or the barely forgotten moments on top of the world, way too much over the moon to feel anything but pleasure
and sometimes you even hold my hand and endearingly look at it while everything around us slowly disappears
and step by step we are learning to fly just like that
jumping from cloud one to cloud two until we arrive on cloud nine

but than,
just before we finally fly,
i open my eyes
i put down the pen
and leave the room