I will vomit memories.
Words.
Things that were said.
Things in my head.
Bad poetry.
Out on paper.
I will purge.
Visions.
Moments.
Sounds.
Feelings.
Blacken, blanken.
Clean out.
Walk away, start over.
(And the paper holds it all, leather-bound.)
7 comments:
Love this. This is how it ends and begins.
Avec mes souvenirs
J'ai allumé le feu
Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs
Je n'ai plus besoin d'eux !
Balayées les amours
Et tous leurs trémolos
Balayés pour toujours
Je repars à zéro
translation:
With my memories
I lit up the fire
My troubles, my pleasures
I don't need them anymore
Broomed away my love stories
And all their tremble
Broomed away for always
I start again from zero.
I loved the way you put it!
WOW.
This is atrocious. You should watch this movie called 'Happiness' and relate with the the lady who plays the poet.
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