Before he could feel himself again,
Before he could really feel,
His eyes drifted to the sky
And he sunk in fear of the clouds.
How small the trees are.
How small the known and living life.
I’ll be sick before I can look into his eyes.
The urgency of his eyes
And I long for the clouds
That shook his very animal being.
He drives his car on busy, twisting roads.
He knows which way to go
And cannot be lost.
He knows which way to look now
So that he’ll never feel lost.
She cries on her own.
Whenever she’s been sad she’s been alone.
In her room, in her home,
She’s always cried on her own.
But now she cries in the toilet
Because her bed is not her own.
It’s my bed too and it’s also my home.
She doesn’t care if she loves me,
She doesn’t even know.
But I let her cry in the toilet
Because I know she cries on her own.