Without you

The things I have been writing yesterday

feel cruel the next morning

Here I am

fulfilled with everlasting happiness

drowning in the cold waters of bliss

I want to share the world I’m seeing now

The endless bright nights,

crosses on top of holy bright church roofs

the silence on Sundays,

the comforting smell of sulphur,

the small breadcrumbs

I keep for the ducks

in my hands.

The key for the house,

the numbers in my head.

And when there is sun I feel warm.

Looking at a gray sea,

counting the endless variety of birds

you haven‘t told me any of their names.

But I have figured it out by now,

the names of the cities,

the streets,

the neighbourhoods,

which are so full of

emptiness

without you.