Somber Times

I keep the lid on my world
the rest doesn't matter to me.

You dip a sugar cube into my cup
watching how it soaks up tea.

Silence. No bridges are connecting us.
A whistle motif outside.

I rip up the bread for the sparrows.
waiting or dying in the snow.

These notes exist, scattered somewhere,
waiting for the one who will put them
in orderin the same way, at the same time.
I'm waiting to breath your smell of guilt.

You start crying, telling me your dirty deed.
I won't give up on us, you know.

Don't be afraid of these
somber times, everything will be alright.
I'll blanket you with my red eyes.



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