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julie Jan 24
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
deaf
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
mutation
he wasn't just ill
he was the disease
julie Jan 2
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
VII
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
gentle
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
escaping
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
julie Mar 2019
you see the climbing rose
on the garden fence?

and the ivy that competes with her?
birds promise springtime
but in me remains
the everlasting winter
julie Feb 2019
take the bottle of wine
light your cigarette
open your heart
and give me your hand
to dance barefoot
with the summer wind
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