Something in me had given up.
And you stumbled through my fingertips.
Lost all heat.
And I stutter.
Can’t find you anymore.
On my dry tongue.
You’re missing and nothing moves onward.
I dream of you when I’m awake.
Burying myself beneath my own silent skin.
I look at them, at the past, how everything dissolved.
Disappeared beneath me.
I had already drowned.
Nobody had ever known me.
How could they?
With all their blind fingers pointed straight at me?
There is so much poison in my body that it grew comfortable.
And I will observe the decay of all matter.
And I will be called heartless.
But all I am is lost.
So lost the reasons for
My feelings,
My subjectivity,
Have deserted me.
“A young woman with a hat” by Leo Gestel (1881-1941)
Croque-Melpomene 