Curtains from my mother

in #write3 years ago

out of the room of my heart
I was glad that it settled in a poor but bright brain.
I closed my doors that day is today-

now it's nothing but an organ on which I put my hand
that heart
with strokes of proof of my survival
The days when he stumbled were tiring me a little,
I saw it as a subtle mockery
It was also not necessary to find a solution to this situation.

a crazy ivy had wrapped around my window lately
It's always presumptuous to say cheeky

Maybe because I think madness has a naivety of its own.
I thought that making such ascriptions to a creature whose survival depends on being hugged would go beyond the level of arrogance and make a person miserable-

I slightly opened the window.
I closed my eyes softly with a sweet wind
a deep breath caressed my nostrils
Spring was coming slowly
I've never seen you come running
just the plum tree in the garden
it would reveal its swiftness with its enormous flowers.
I would see what a great desire to live and present, and I would envy him.
also
from room to room with loud footsteps
little boy running
up stairs,
each step sounded like musical notes
I guess it was nice to live in a boring house

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by the wind
curtains from my mother were flying in my face
my mother suddenly became a thousand
tens of thousands of arms
eyelash
tens of thousands of strands of hair
I miss
i miss you so much

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