Asche auf mein Haupt

I let you wander into that room.

The room where the walls collide.

I had sensed you in every pore of my skin.

You walked through so many doors and

It felt like they multiplied to shut me out,

Deter me from following you.


You sang your song to me and it felt cold.

It was easier to put a lock on every door

And keep you. Somewhere. I wouldn’t see

How you turned your face away from me.

I knew that I had helped you in the worst way

Imaginable. I knew that you would disintegrate.


“Elza Bányai in a Black Dress” by József Rippl-Rónai (1861-1927)

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