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julie May 2020
I don't know why it's you.
why you of all people
even though there were three others
but today it's you

I see you
as you stand there in the wide field
a dog on a leash, probably yours
your eyes in which I lose myself second by second more and more
the sky behind you almost purple
a cigarette in your hand - but you're still so young
it doesn't matter to me today

I am sitting here
trying to sort my thoughts
and still waiting for a sign from you
if only for a very small
and I know you get off from work at 4:00 pm.

you are there
where I wish to be
as of today with you
I don't really know you
you don't know me even a little bit.

but I want to see you, in real life.
and not just on my phone screen
if I have the courage to text you?
I would love to

and oh my god how I miss you
and I don't even really know you
and I know that I need to get to know you better
julie Jan 2020
he was 13 years old when I first met him
in the white corridor
endless linoleum floor
the sound of screeching rubber shoes
nurses tired from their night shift
wayward doctors brooding over their next case
there he came
slipped into the waiting room
as quickly as his mutated feet allowed him
his life; bizarre
his black hair stuck close to his forehead
nearly blind
but there's something in his eyes
a glimpse of life
the perception?
a rattling breath, a shrug
his back is bent
his fifth operation
his trembling, pale hands, which he holds in front of his chest
like crooked but delicate dragonfly wings
the chaos of chromosomes
he wasn't just ill
he was the disease
julie Jan 2020
the news paper on the green round table
the jingling of cutlery
the smell of fresh coffee
the observation of passers-by
the ashtray that has not yet been emptied
men who continue to smoke quietly despite their smoker's lungs
the subliminal conversation, the whispering
the scent of musk of two ladies
the dark red velvet cushions
waiters in a hurry to get home from work
the boiling of hot water for some black tea ordered by table number 5
"madam, what would you like?"
flocks of tourists in unison with ******-off locals
and not far from this scenario
the eiffel tower
and I'm sitting here
in the 6th arrondissement
- Café de Flore
julie Dec 2019
the old gravel pit
the breathing of the chimneys
visible on the horizon where the next big city lies dormant
the rustling of the leaves under my feet
and the streaks on the lake
on its bluish silver ground
- the existence

3 black birds are watching me roaming
where to?
as black as his hair
the soft strands caressing his pale face
the hair I want to sink into like in an ocean

the last light of the sun's rays touches my face once more
so tender, so vulnerable
like the skin of his fingertips

remotely I hear the laughter of the children on the swings
that's all that is left
everything seems to be asleep
the ferns
like his soft pink lips on my skin

the smell of firewood and smoke
damp grass and cold icy air
it is his scent that is enveloping me like a warm blanket
my life preserver in rough waters

this is my hometown
the place where I should feel safe and sound
that touches my heart

but all I want
is a tiny pin on a map
into his embrace
in Brooklyn Heights
julie Jun 2019
there is a forgotten youth
that tried to do everything right
by growing up immediately
but secretly, they're still the kids
that they left behind back then
when they had to grow up
julie Jun 2019
do you hear the mockingbird
slowly its singing let me fall asleep yesterday;
last night
after you said
that no more white pigeons will fly for us
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