Monday, October 11, 2010


Tell me.
That every time you came to me,
you followed me because you didn't want to dream.

I feel as if it's impossible to leave,
because I believe that I still haven't woken up from sleep.

Courage it takes- to hold a friend.
One that will keep you in their eyes,
one that turns into statue lying next your grave at night.

Dear Friend,
I thought I recognised you as you came from behind.
A world that created a garden of exchanges,
a field of revolutionising flowers wilting in your hands.
Yes dear Friend,
you were as empty as standing in a field at night.

Looking at you with your hands full of nostalgia,
I hope you find happiness in what you have picked,
because those flowers only grew once,
and now watching them die in your hands,
where there is no-


Dear Friend

your hands-

have no light.