Under my scalp
flows a river
from the outside you would think
that it's calm and lovely
the one you saw as a child
running, soothing
But my river is wild
and in spite of its wildness
so beautfiul
- because I see your face.
I see it in the waters surface
and the ghosts of our memories
flow with the stream
an endless turmoil
Normally the river wouldn't affect anything but the head
but now that you're gone
it flows out into my heart
- into my hands,
that can no longer hold you
into my feet,
that no longer point in your direction
into my lips,
that haven't been quite satisfied since they last met yours.
My body runs over
I can't control the river
because you've filled it
it all runs over
and I cry
I cry when I don't have you.