Writing: The Present
What was I in my past lives
the air is trying to tell me who I was
but the echo in the streets prevents it.
I walk barefoot on the sidewalk
hearing a car horn speeding
I live confused, I will wander at night
to find or meet
rather find
you, the girl of blonde hair of my dreams
and you appear there and
We invent a new language that only you and I talk
where you do not have to worry
of my past lives and lies,
but only live in the present.
(2015)
