Yes, the years have passed.
55 May has arrived
Compulsive with adaptation to herself.
As if she had lost everything, she was caught by her hair.
And he behaves the same way in life.
It no longer adapts to the circumstances.
nor does he live the life he wants
But what a life they are offered.
Like a consecrated offering,
who, coming out of Holy Communion,
And having endured fasting and deprivation
devours like eternal bread..
She becomes neurotic and vulnerable,
She trembles for her child.
She worries about her fate, but she also provokes it.
he doesn't give a reason, on the contrary he takes the floor
seeks the reason
claims him
doesn't let anything fall to the ground
She is being eaten with her clothes on.
It is mixed with fate.
He welcomes it and at other times he devalues it.
It converses with time and place.
She defines them, they don't define her.
sees what it's about
and chooses it
before things choose her..
It turns and looks
he shows it off with arrogance
but also a hold on the voice
It is imposed on desires
and tames the wave-bearing mechanisms of its nature, mainly.
He doesn't give a damn about tomorrow.
He has now made her his own.
A rare and pious lover
and demanding and a little grumpy partner
No complaints, nothing beta category.
But if he catches her
He gives it to him and he understands.
Like a child then, curled up
one and a half years
Hold on to your mother's dress.
How is it that he cries?
Until she puts everything aside for his sake..
as for the iron..
Similar to coal
To free her from toil and submission
in daily life
And raise her up to be a "mother" from heaven
Difficult child.
Not because of childishness
but due to temperament and character structure
Like everyone else, she goes her own way.
He drives clumsily,
It seems like he's a bit bored.
and seeks an escape.
He gathers and honks.
signaling her presence,
That's what he'll say to that night.
your life and my life..
We don't get along, we tried.
"Life that doesn't take two steps,
"a bitter and empty life"
It's closed. It's honking for a long time.
and it cuts off the steering wheel and the conversation inside it.
He found the words.
to express what he feels.
Through the sketching of her portrait
of the blue one..
Maybe instead of words, she'll read him this poem..
Maybe he'll understand, even a little.
her purple truth.
