all i want do is scream from roof tops of empty cities
abandoned and cold.
the kind of cold you feel after you've reached the deepest depths of the deepest ocean.
but in the depths you can't breathe, the roof tops there is air
i can breathe
slowly in and out counting in my head to 3
exhale
this roof top in this empty city does exist, like most things the roof top lives in my head
much like you and i
in my head we are happy
we are roaming gardens of lilacs, roses, sunflowers, and daisies
but lilacs are not lilacs
flowers are not flowers
the garden isn't a garden
flowers are delicate, must handle with care
much like my heart when it comes to you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A spontaneous poem about the roamings of our thoughts. Exellently worded and true impressive! Thanks so much for sharing.