Against your cheek, Nusch

Have the streets of Paris ever been so brutal?

I fell apart on the heartless tarmac.

A stroke took me away from you. Too far away.

I can’t breathe anymore. I died away from you.


Paul, I thought we were meant to be.

I was a woman who believed in eternities.

Had I spent them all?

I can’t even remember my last thought.


I trespassed the celestial doors and hoped you would never find out that I was there.

Not to come home to you.

What I wished instead was unclear.

As my pain had vanished, yours lay still ahead.


And I know you, Paul.

You fought for love and life.

And now you hear news of death and silence.

Think of Nietzsche, walk upward, there is hope to be found through pain.


Suffering always reaches a concluding chapter.

But please don’t let me become an echo in your mind.

I want to reside in your heartbeat.

That’s where we coincide.


“Portrait of a Young Woman in Profile” by Sofonisba Anguissola (1535-1625)

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