I love to pretend that everything is fine.
Like a moment of silence, a dark corner, a song.
I see a painting of a woman crying.
Big drops.

I meet nice people when I sleep.
I go under the water.
I take things as they come.

Hidden behind grave stones I watch the people walking.
Crying.
People losing everything being locked up in their prisons.

And the love and hope that keeps them going.
From a distance.

Love is traveling from one place to the next.
To where it belongs.
And it can never stay alive.

Only in death.
Everything is fine.

Like a moment of silence in the dark.
Like a song in your playlist that comes along telling you: it’s alright.