Papercuts and RecollectionsI had forgotten your love letters
until they cut my finger when I
grazed the bottom of my drawer.
Folded crisp and neat,
some of the ink had smudged like
the crimson filling the whorls of my thumb.
I could hear your voice clearly,
saturated in the scrawling script.
You promised me forever,
now forever's gone.
Lost in that rush of reanimated feeling,
I could almost remember
the way your cheek felt resting
warm against my hair,
how you smelled like home.
The traces of you lingered like
the last hours of yesterday
before turning to the smell of dust
and the feel of paper too dry
to write on again.
Half-Past a Different Kind of BrokenTrauma looks like my kitchen clock.Half-Past a Different Kind of Broken in Free Verse More Like This
they are dead
and the second hand stutters,
I imagine every inconsequential twitch
is a plea for the freedom
it will never see again.
When its futile heart finally gives out,
I won't try to fix the timepiece
because after all its wasted sufferings,
allowing again such a disjointed tic
would be a deeper level of cruelty.
SleeplessBack pressed against the wall,Sleepless in Free Verse More Like This
I stare into three o'clock nothings.
Left with watered-down thoughts,
exhausted, mumbled musings,
I have little more to do than
mutter myself down from
whatever fight I'm losing against myself
as the stars grow all the dimmer.
What about sleepless exhaustion
destroys the barrier between
stream of consciousness and the
Strung OutConsider me hanging on the line,Strung Out in Free Verse More Like This
a dress without a body waiting for the sun,
vibrant when she's not heavy, waterlogged.
As a child, I enjoyed making orange smiles,
while wondering why we didn't have
a clothesline stretching from tree to tree
like I'd seen on the television.
I admired the way skirts became birds,
picked up by the wind they adored,
while sheets grabbed the wind like a sail,
and the clouds were always made of cotton,
and the denim sat like lead.
Now every time I put myself out to dry,
the sky gets heavy and breaks on me.
I am halfway towards being ready,
and then the rain rips me down again.
Maybe that's why we bought a machine
to wring the water from our clothes,
because there was no risk of bad weather inside.
AdriftRun headlong into the wind with me.Adrift in Free Verse More Like This
We are only ships on this endless blue,
without anchor, north star, or compass spinning.
Find me as I lose myself with you.
GodGod is in her rocking chair,God in Free Verse More Like This
wood creaking as she hums back and forth.
I want to climb onto her sun-warmed lap,
breathe in the smell of air dried dresses,
May breezes caught in her floral-print skirt.
Her hands are gentle as they stroke my hair,
her knitting going still when I rest my head
on her knees where her yarn was.
She holds me as I cry.
HeavyWhen you let me goHeavy in Free Verse More Like This
by the side of the road,
please remember the string
that you tied to my soul.
I'm the balloon you inflated
just to let go;
the night is too cold
and I'm sinking so slowly down.
Why'd you have to cut this
the thin wire trailing
from my heartbeat to yours?
Remember the science of
the desolate sky,
because the night is too cold
and I'm sinking so slowly down.
Burning HeartWe built a beautiful pyre,Burning Heart in Free Verse More Like This
and in my heart,
I'm holding your hand as it burns.
The sparks could become the stars,
jewels in Orion's belt.
I'd lace my fingers through yours
in a final act of faith
while we stare down the smoke
cradling the moon,
and each piece of kindling
that crumbles in on itself
leaves me a little less broken.
The light flickers,
so do the corners of your lips.
We needed this.
Blink and You'll Miss ItThe wind reminds me ofBlink and You'll Miss It in Free Verse More Like This
the empty space to my left,
which I swear you filled
only minutes ago.
But if I rested my hand
where you were sitting,
it would be just as cold as
the realization that you're gone.
EasyWas there ever a girl so strange?Easy in Free Verse More Like This
Smoky hearted, grabbed at the waist
by the next passing breeze.
She keeps one foot stuck in
the wrong side of her conscience,
the other grounded in nothing.
She replaces men like lipstick, she
wears her promiscuity like
last night's perfume.
Everything I Want To BeI want to write something poignant and moving.Everything I Want To Be in Free Verse More Like This
It will make you cry and make you laugh.
It will win awards and give me prestige.
It will change someone's life.
I want to write something hilarious and heart-wrenching.
It will make and break relationships because of realizations of truth.
It will make you think differently than before you cracked open the first page.
It will make you want to read it again and again and again.
I want to write something that means something.
It will be translated into language after language, copy after copy published.
It will be read in schools, but the kids will actually enjoy it. Even after the thing is analyzed to death.
It will make them stop to think.
I want to write something real.
But don't we all, I suppose?
If You're the Bird Today while I was driving home, I looked out the window and saw two birds, a hawk and a smaller bird, of whose type I was unsure. The two of them were flying together, the smaller one above the hawk.If You're the Bird in Philosophical More Like This
It was interesting to see, the small bird flapped and flapped its wings frantically, but in that way it was able to go just as high, if not higher, than the hawk. It was also able to fly just as fast.
The hawk, on the other hand, flew in lazy circle, hardly flapping its wings and gliding for most of the way.
It was interesting. I wondered about it for a while.
Birds of a feather flock together.
Or do they?
Bored and LazyIf boredom is the mother of all invention,Bored and Lazy in Free Verse More Like This
then laziness is her under-appreciated
but particularly persistent
Please Define Normal For MeThe teacher standsPlease Define Normal For Me in Free Verse More Like This
before the class,
a ruler in one hand.
She taps the board
and pulls out a marker,
writing in black ink
define normal for me."
Not a sound.
Not a peep.
All the students do is stare,
glassy eyed and hardly there.
Once again she taps the board.
Class is still in session."
blink their eyes.
They look again at the board.
She writes her question down.
"Please define 'normal' for me."
No one dares to raise a hand,
but at least they are awake.
The timid girl, who sits in the back,
her hair dyed brightly purple and green,
barely dares to raise a hand.
"Ma'am, do you mean,
from the dictionary?"
The teachers smiles,
looks at the class.
"No, I don't,
I mean to ask,
what does normal
in terms of people's tastes.
What is a normal person,
It's plain to see,
in the faces of the "popular"
what they'd like to say.
But no one wants to offend
this amazing teacher,
We Live in HousesWe live in the houses of the pastWe Live in Houses in Free Verse More Like This
with the sentiments of now.
In trees of glass
with houses of metal.
We ride our clinking dragons
and steam-powered horses
and fight with whirring swords.
Play the times,
but where are we now?
It's too hard to remember when.
Sometimes it's better that way.
So we fight as we're told
and learn what they teach
and quest for the answer someday.
The castles are created from
iron and steel.
Clothing is created.
What is natural?
We learn how to tell our lives from ancient books
and long ago movies.
Who knows the meaning of self anymore?
Let it be.
Sometimes it's better not to know.
And we'll quest for the answers someday.
BaptismFollow you down to the red oak treeBaptism in Free Verse More Like This
As the air moves thick through the hollow reeds
I will wait for you there until someone comes
To carry me, carry me down
Third star to the right,
straight on 'til morning,
Follow not weeping violins
nor crooning of angels' voices
but the breeze's whisper
to the bay
to die and rise again
Payne's Grey IPayne's GreyPayne's Grey I in Free Verse More Like This
dolphins take refuge as the
ocean is whipped up into a frenzy beneath
Gulls' screams join in chorus
with the howling wind
as the waves collapse upon themselves.
The salt spray and
smoke from the sinking galleon
Fallen sailors find their clothes suddenly heavy
as icy torrents drag them beneath the roiling surface.
The air tingles with the electricity of
a lightning bolt waiting to strike.
Letter to a FriendTo a friend,Letter to a Friend in Emotional More Like This
I know I don't actually know you "in real life," but that doesn't matter. I've seen your creativity, insight, strength, and wit shine through both your written work and our conversations and have come to consider you a friend (I hope that isn't too forward).
I know you like bees, flowers, and pie for your birthday dessert; and that you don't like making a fool of yourself or people asking you what book you're reading while you're reading it. I know you love your family very much (at least, most of the time) but hate some of the things going on through no fault of anyone's.
From across the internet I've watched you chronicle ups and downs, good days and bad days, and for the first time since I've met you, a birthday- on which we've made the decision to run away to the Mediterranean and build a palace (or was it a mansion?) from all those pennies we wish we hadn't earned.
By the time you read this, it won't be your birthday anymore, but since you've been down lately I hoped
Prussian BluePrussian BluePrussian Blue in Free Verse More Like This
uniforms clothe men sleeping
under a brooding, moonless sky
beside a deep, dark forest.
It is swathed in almost silence;
only the hoot of an owl
and the creaking of the nearly frozen river break it.
The air tastes brisk and clean
with a hint of evergreen
and fresh fallen snow.
The watchman shivers as he looks into the sky
and feels as if he's drowning in a cold pool of water
or perhaps floating upwards into the nothingness above him
on the back of the North Wind.
The SnakeBoredom was universal.The Snake in Short Stories More Like This
Temptation was only felt by a selected few.
Eve, for example, was tempted by an apple and the voice of a handsome snake. So persuasive that snake: so sly and silky, picking the angel Eve from her sweet Eden as easy as plucking a blackberry off of a thorn-less bush. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
Moriarty could relate to the snake. It was a wonderful creature; he'd taken notes, pretending to be on the side of the angels when really it still had a toe in the devil's parlour, keeping its place at the head of the table in time for tea. As he sat in his hideout, Moriarty smile to himself. How foolish people can be, he thought. How quaint. Aren't they funny?
The computer that perched at his fingertips glowed, the screen still active. It was uploading something. A series of zeroes and ones streamed like a waterfall: green on a black screen. They reflected in Moriarty's eyes. It was a key. A key that didn't even exist. He smirked to himself again, delighted with
FrenzyDrip.Frenzy in Short Stories More Like This
All of it. Give it to me. Every drop. Every drip.
Give it to me. Now.
I lied. I lied, it wasn't pig's blood, it was the thick, red juice of a man in the street: ash-burned, empty headed, veins pumped with drugs and wine and beer and fear. He cried and struggled under my grip and oh, how he satisfied me. I don't know why. I don't care why. I was trying it out. I was bored. I was having fun. Do you know what fun is?
It changed me. The fog. It changed me. My fall is coming soon and my heart how it thuds and leaps and spins and tries to fight the angel inside of me that begs and shrieks and I want to tear it out, shut it up by any means necessary.
I want it all. Iron and booze and ooze and fire.
I want the sensation of blood on my chin, my face, my hands. The meat in my mouth exploring my tongue and teeth and lips and throat and I want that crack. Pop. The snip and snap of bone and flesh and the silence that follows and makes me dizzy. There's nothing wr
LogicLike living without airLogic in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Or water, I'll be
Growing older by the second, becoming a corpse before your very eyes on this sofa as the
Indecipherable cells in my head will crumble and rot and decay without its sweet satisfaction. Please, I
Crave your logic, your puzzles, your ideas, and I'll drink them like the vampire's Sunday wine.
Fields of Golden WheatMy fingers travel through your hair, fields of golden wheatFields of Golden Wheat in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Your lips have the taste of an ancient salty ocean
My childhood dreams of blue birds and their heartbeat
The delicate fragrance coming from eastern lands
The softness of a delighted soul and your sunlight
The black wings of a sad night and my heart in your hands
I listen to you, the language of birds, the mystery tone remains
I hide you, inside my eyelids, between the layers of my heart
Where you choose to live; mixed with every color in my veins
Heart Shape PetalsThe broken flower travelsHeart Shape Petals in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
From the green abyss to the corners of my eyes
Sits there, waits the heart shape petals
Your angel suffers, a dying bird on my cheek
On my palms he drew the map
Don't follow me , he said, my heart is your light
When the sun comes up again, throw the ashes
Where the broken flower lives, as it lives no more
Where words dance, each in a different dress
Take my heart from the book of prayers
And let the river of sadness pours into my eyes
Thank you for your love, my last miracles
Thank you for your love, where God's secret lies
Black and White world VS Rainbow bucketThe gentle touch of your lips on my cold foreheadBlack and White world VS Rainbow bucket in Free Verse More Like This
The soft kiss on my palms, and I wake up, I look at you
You say It's morning, you say you love me, then you leave
Do you know what you leave behind , It is not me
Now, the world is black and white, all is concrete and ugly
The walls are pure cement and sand, and open land
There are weeds growing on the bed, and I cannot leave
When the black and white world sits behind my back,
Watches, waits for me to move, I will not move
Keeps taking all the light, dims my hopes and breathes my air
I cannot look, I cannot pray, I cannot make a sound
I crawl in bed, my arms around my knees, I wait for you
The day is almost dead, and now you are home
You take me in, you dip me in a big bucket of rainbow
You soak my every cell with every color that is
And I am me again, I can see again, I can breathe again
And my black and white world crawls down my legs
With his tiny wrinkled hands, he runs in shame
Hides behind the door
The martyr of loveI am still a stranger in your battlefieldThe martyr of love in Free Verse More Like This
My rifle on my shoulder, I do not mean to fight
My tears cutting the ground under your feet
You stand over my bleeding body
Your cold blade dripping your way out
You stab me, once and twice, you grin at my wounds
My blood meets the thirsty salty soil
They greet, they hug, they mate under your feet
They give birth to the wild bloody roses
Where every wound blooms once more
I hear your walk away, leaving my barren land
I pray for death to push the arrow deeper in my back
To take the last hopeless breath, the last breeze of love
Bury me where the old moon was born
Let my head rest in a land of cinnamon and honey
When the white hands arrive with their remedy
Tell them all my birds left me and flew north
I do not wish to heal, I do not pray for cure
Battered and broken, my heart left the shore
I am a PoetYou ask me who I am , where did I come fromI am a Poet in Free Verse More Like This
I say: I am a poet, I was born out of the blazing silk of my words
My heart is an eternal rebel, since the dawn of creation
I'm the master of my own words, the keeper of God's secret
I'm the story of that rose shivering on the freezing hill
I live in that oasis of light, in a world beyond your world
The stars stare at my hopes, and hell trembles between my fingers
The night dreads my pain, the morning sleeps on my pillow
I create my words from the tissue of my veins
I weave the images from the feather of my eyelids
I wash my sins away, when I repent between the lines
My words move slowly between your palms, climb to your soul
To hug that poet, who sleeps between the chambers of your heart
When the world is mud, thorns and empty substance
I create my own, where the ground is basil and the walls are none
A Letter to my FatherFather,A Letter to my Father in Letters More Like This
Today, It has been nine months and nineteen days since I left. Three thousand kilometers of distance. This is the longest period of time that we have been apart. I miss you, I remember you all the time. Suddenly, I remember things I did not think about before, suddenly they all keep jumping in my face, so many memories, some warm, some cold, some tough, and some just beautiful.
Do you know that I can remember the days you were teaching me the Arabic alphabet and the French Alphabet. Whenever we have a guest, I run to them and start shouting " A,B,C,D,E,F......." They smile and ask me who thaught you all this, I run to you, I hug you and I say " Dad taught me".
You took me to the beach, you taught me how to love it, this is why now the beach is where I find my soul, where my heart feels at home, where I feel a very strong sense of belonging I dont quite understand. We went to
AttachedI grew roots for my heartAttached in Free Verse More Like This
in every twisted chamber
Hitting the ground, deep down layers of earth
There, sleeps every vein I have
Where the world makes senseI let my head on this pillow, everytime I sinkWhere the world makes sense in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Where all the heavy thoughts rest and the heart sings
Between the world's pain and my agony, there is a place
I close the eyes, I breathe, I rise and I'm there again
I am the same child again,chasing the summer breeze
Carrying all the colorful dreams on my shoulders
With eyes as big as the waves, and a heart where birds nest
There, where every butterfly takes colors from my palms
And the thirsty deers come drink from my spring
There where the world made sense
I am there, and the restless mind is home for peace
When you told me joy had features and a face, my face
I touch the sandy beach , and one heart is never enough
I eat from every daisy in the white field, I drink the morning dew
I cover my cold skin with sunlight and sunflowers petals
Every now and then, I let my head sink, I let the world sink
I go back where I can hug the sky and walk on foamy clouds
Where I can be a little bird, that small daisy in a white field
We Walk Through Heaven's DoorLet your hands walk through my dusty roads tonightWe Walk Through Heaven's Door in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Follow them, on my vast lands start your fight
Let me kiss your kiss and drink your salt and wine
In your kind darkness my drops of sweat shine
Those wonderlands are yours, and what is yours is mine
Don't make me wait, come and touch every spot
All those mountains and hills, I'm saving you a lot
Kill your thirst, swim in my stream and fill your pot
İ am no longer a body , and you are no longer a soul
We are one lonely beat, was found for once and all
So, cover me with your skin as we hear the ultimate call
Breathe In my ears, and let me ask you for more
As we roll under earth, we walk through heaven's door
Born to Love YouGod created trees, mountains and seasBorn to Love You in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
God blew life in the soft tulips
And God gave life to all human soul
But, before and all
God made the seven angels his witnesses
And God said: This woman is for this man
Every little creature, every rock,
Every leaf on evey tree heard God say:
'Her heart will beat to love him '
And every light breez, every sun light,
And every heart inside every life smiled
For they all knew God makes no mistakes
We met love, millions of years ago
We met before the book of destiny,
Before the heart knew how to live and die
Before you and İ
İn a time before this time,
The day immortality began
When God said : She belongs to this man
Again, - Draft OneThey call me Stitches,Again, - Draft One in Free Verse More Like This
Because of my Frankenstein heart.
A rag-doll heart.
A broken down, beaten up heart.
They call me Stitches,
Because of my shattered wrists
And the lines of remorse
And my warped memories and mind.
They call me Stitches,
But it still surprises them time and time again,
When I come apart
At the seams.
The Bone CollectorSometimes my breath catches in my throatThe Bone Collector in Free Verse More Like This
and the very stillness of an earth going
a thousand and three miles per hour
gets lodged there.
Sometimes these simple exchanges
leave me breathless, croaking on dust:
the unfiltered pigments of other people's skin
and blood and ash
but with my tarred lungs and itchy eyes
I sit and sift through charcoaled remains,
alphabetising them from c to c. I am lost
in a world charred brazen.
Many things I have loved have turned to ash.
Many people. I was naive enough to think
that there was some perfect nutritional truth
that could outlast hell-fire.
I claw through a world turned ashen
and know those dead embers collect in my cells
They are the harbingers of a truth
I do not want.
The skittish earth throws its skirts about again
to unsettle us all, and I am unsettled
Alone in the dirt, organising piles of bone-dust
he did not love, at all.
ShiverShe shiversShiver in Free Verse More Like This
and throws her head back hard into the pillow
(the goose down feathers spike her,
fierce into her scalp, but she thrashes again).
and bites her neck with a gurgle
(transferring an 'I love you'
from the tips of his teeth, to her veins).
her nails scratching a line into his back
(he crosses it, she crosses herself and prays,
she prays for nought - he exclaims; "Oh God").
He cries out
as her muscles contract in spasm
(he spills his guts to her, overjoyed
by her assumed compliance.)
as her body tries to force the intrusion out.
(and the muscle of her heart contorts once more
and, overwrought, shatters. Again.)
You are not an islandI have been alone. This man is an island.You are not an island in Free Verse More Like This
The cliffs of my shoulder blades
hang heavy with grief, ore, suffering.
I am draped with the permanence of gravity,
So do not believe that you cannot move.
Come to me, water babes fully grown,
Allow yourself to be swept in salt and ash.
Tumble with your brothers into my arms
and be at peace, at last, on the shore.
I too was once drowned, but I arose
and as the caps melt, all things will erode
For no man is an island alone.
Hope Dies At LastMoths;Hope Dies At Last in Free Verse More Like This
of dreams long gone
dead and passed –
They ache for the love
but their blind groping
for the truth
In the end,
all moths die
as Icarus –
as infantile projections
of our innocence
as hope too, dies at last.
tree, fiddler crabIt took days to hollow out the soft partstree, fiddler crab in Free Verse More Like This
of the trunk, dig out the tree-flesh and sap,
polish the raw wood so that when he sat,
there would be no splinters. He carved his name
into the side, like a blessing, a declaration
of good fortune, and stowed his forest inside.
tie your corsets tightthis is a child. we mass-produce them here,tie your corsets tight in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
at GOD, inc. a little girl for you, sir.
she'll grow soon. mould her, shape her,
teach her your words. she'll be high
maintenance if you want to keep her
under control. turn her into little lolita,
barbie, pocahontas indian princess,
white and pure, not good enough, ladylike,
pretty and prim, little innocent, cherubim,
daydream, angel sweet. keep her indoors
on a pedestal. don't let the sun stain
her pretty skin - we work hard on that, you know.
and of course, don't let her meet boys.
cut off the flab, the slack, keep her
like meat in the cold. drain all the
blood from her, porcelain, sweet,
put her in pigtails, set flowers at her feet,
she should live on your mantelpiece, sir.
keep out of direct sunlight. don't let
her breathe. she's yours. punish her.
she was asking for it.
The Cartographer's DaughterEvery night, he would fold her into his arms before she slept. Creases grew into her, turning brown with wear, and she loved them. When she woke up in the night, dreaming of darkness, he would take her to his desk and draw for her a map of her face, turning it into another world. Tracing the contours of her smile, he would scrawl a warning, "Here be monsters", whispering to her that she was a dragon when angry.The Cartographer's Daughter in Short Stories More Like This
As she grew older, she populated his maps with creatures and peoples from the books she read, or her own creations. He taught her to draw, and to write with an old inkpen, in a cursive script her teacher could make neither head nor tail of. She made him angry once, drawing in the drying sand with her finger, and smudging the ink. When he was angry, mountain ranges grew across his forehead and caverns opened in his cheeks. Here be lions.
Walking home from school, she knew the local area inside out; from the maps he had drawn and taught her. He would copy them onto o
LifeWe build then we breakLife in Free Verse More Like This
We give then we take
We erase then we make
Something new from the eraser bits left on the page
To Write A PoemI don't KNOW what to doTo Write A Poem in Free Verse More Like This
You're the sane one,shouldn't you?
I just know I must do something
Because just sitting here
Is brutally killing me
Don't you see?
Not sure what my muse is and I'll never know
But it's there when I'm busy and when I need it
I wish wanting and having were the same
But they aren't
And it blows
This desire to write,
So I'm infuriated to find that I CAN'T
I can't write now,can't right now
But it seems I've written this,and I wonder how
I managed to make a poem about not being able to
Write a poem
Cheating FateSherlock isn't sure what he thinks when he sees a man in a brown coat and suit walking alone on an empty Baker street from his window. He wonders why the other is alone during the holiday season. He looks like he'd be the type to have a girlfriend or spend Christmas with his family.Cheating Fate in General Fiction More Like This
He tries to read the other; he tries to deduce at least something from the man's life, as he has piqued Sherlock's interest.
Sherlock flees the party in order to get a better look at the stranger. He's an odd man. Sherlock can't read anything from him, and he feels disturbed. There have been very few people he cannot read, and he dislikes letting the number rise above oneor two, actually, if he counts a certain time travelling alien.
The man is pacing across the street, muttering to himself and making gestures to the air. It's like he's talking to someone, but Sherlock is sure the man knows there's no one to talk to. Then he spots Sherlock, and Sherlock gazes at him impassively. The man is tall, with
ContradictionsMother Nature dreamed ofContradictions in Free Verse More Like This
Life, cool and glowing,
Vibrant strains of ethereal, caramelised melody.
And she wanted to wear life,
Cover herself in it,
Embalm herself until she glowed too.
And so she clothed herself in flower petals,
Ripped leaves off of trees to make
She tore the wings off of butterflies and
Laced them through her hair,
Pinning iridescent beetles to her collar and
Plucking spring buds to wind around her wrists like
She suffocated her skin in that which had been living.
Mother Nature dreamed of life,
And in her quest to find it
She ignored Death,
Forgetting that even the most
Delicate, coloured butterflies
Must cast shadows with their wings.
And so Death did not exist in her mind
As she killed and killed in her quest to find beauty,
Until she and it were the same.
The FallI saw the sky in fire,The Fall in Free Verse More Like This
Met past associations in glistening dances.
And all was bright until
I saw you.
Then it faded.
Any doctor knows the signs of
A heart too weak to love,
Muscles overburdened with affection,
But eyes that stay cold.
So I found the highest place I knew,
Looked down upon the world,
And watched memories dancing in the breeze.
Our words hung between us like
Lights - fading quickly in London mist.
There was a catch though -
And this catch was that
There was nobody there to catch me.
The last breaths of an enemy hung around my eyes,
New wrinkles that would not fade.
Glassy plans had been shattered into crystalline fragments,
And they littered the stone beneath like sand.
Were you truly there beneath me?
I could have sworn I heard your voice,
Felt your hand on my shoulder in the
Icy caress of the wind.
That's what gave me courage.
I'd hear your voice again, though you wouldn't hear mine.
And so I waltzed forwards into space,
And in doing that, I fell.