The movements of your
Mouth
Scare me. You never know what might
Escape.
You are not always in charge.
I think and you speak.
There is no parachute in-between.
I look upon your face and imagine your voice,
What you might say and
The shapes of the words
Become monsters in my head.
I cannot rely on my mind
And the conflict it creates.
Your body drags its weight
Across my imagination like
A thunder that never recedes.
It has nothing in common
With the lightheartedness of the real
Thing, your body, your intentions.
But
Why does my mind think that it is
Necessary to
Visualise you with such
Exaggerations?
Is it saying to me
That I can’t see you
Clearly
For what you are,
For what I am to you?
“Mother of Zorka” by József Rippl-Rónai (1861-1927)
Croque-Melpomene 