Sometimes,  
Sometimes most of the time,  
I feel nothing.  
Nothing at all.

No joy or sorrow,  
No rise or fall,  
Just a quiet void,  
A distant, hollow call.

Emotions fade,  
Like shadows on a wall,  
Leaving only echoes,  
Of nothing at all.

I search within,  
For something to hold,  
But find only silence,  
A story untold.

Sometimes,  
Sometimes most of the time,  
I feel nothing,  
And let the stillness fall.

The one umbrella I give her
and get drenched in the rain.

My eyes are not dry
as rain bathes my eyelashes
makes me cry in joy.

I'm happy she's not wet
as it pours on pitter patter
pitter patter.

In the rain I find the might of love
and in the music of the pour
I hear my heart burning
in the light of sound.

Godot

The space between love
and tomorrow harbors
the lost, the arbiters
And the waiting.

I am waiting for Godot,
But he is not coming.
Noone is..  This place,
where's dialog plates,
where the audience
sees failure

My heart
beats a
Tattoo, a

small wine glass.
A swallow lefť,

An initial fades.
Love

Rubs off
With the
Cleaning

Cloth


Caroline Shank
8.2.24

You have the most pleasant touch,
most pleasant eyes, most pleasant wrinkles.
Kotschka, you have turned me into a fire
without knowing it, without seeing it.
Now that you do, look at me and show
me remorse, and give me your condolences.
This is my very first time saying this:
I died when you looked at me
and I died when you said 'hi.'
I died when you smiled,
and I died again when you touched me.
This is how it's going to be, but know
that I can die again and again
as long as it's for you and because of you.