Unlike others

you’re one tough tree branch
that would hold the nests
of all birds flapping their wings
freely
in my sky

you’re so beautifully disguised
as a bathrobe
waiting, waiting
long after the running waters have stopped
soft and still
to be filled up
by me

you’re by far
the loudest thunder
striking the same spot
over and over
despite no weather warnings

you’re so me..




you’re welcome

In other words...

perhaps is not all
that bad
perhaps the way I see it
and the way you see it
are just two poles
of the same Earth
spinning around a dying sun
for its survival
in other words
the going backward
and the going forward
the yesterdays and the tomorrows
are just coordinates
you
a dot
on God’s graph
following
the unpredictable trajectory
of fate
on some wall
in Haven

me?
oh, me too...