i can't translate
the words from our pages
they were born out of swedish syllabics
formed by
the dialectic way
you formed your lips
around j's
so different from me
the shifting distance
in our pauses
silently inviting the other one
to pick up
the rytm
in our morning talks
melodies from your tongue
seconds before
you break into a smile
our memoirs
are coloured by the
raw cold winter
sprung from northern skies
and they just won't
render
into something else
despite my aching need
to write you out
Nov 16, 2020
Nov 16, 2020 at 4:00 PM UTC
i can't translate
the words from our pages
they were born out of swedish syllabics
formed by
the dialectic way
you formed your lips
around j's
so different from me
the shifting distance
in our pauses
silently inviting the other one
to pick up
the rytm
in our morning talks
melodies from your tongue
seconds before
you break into a smile
our memoirs
are coloured by the
raw cold winter
sprung from northern skies
and they just won't
render
into something else
despite my aching need
to write you out