The sun is slothfully watching us high in the sky, sky-high you might say. That warm shade of blue, the one associated with heat and the pavement burning my heels, until I give in with a sigh (a secretly summer-blessed sigh) and lift from the ground. Watching my feet dangle in the air as if I'm still a child, while I half-lie on the swing, lazily floating back and forth.

The sun is too bright and the wind is without its breeze, and our breathing is strained, as if there isn't enough air for both of us during this summerday. With one eye closed I open the other one slowly, to make sure you aren't noticing my foolish games, and through a field of black eyelashes I can discern the contures of your body. Your head thrown back, gazing in the sky. Oh how I wish I could read your mind. But I can't.  I try to inhale less of the air, in an attempt to give you more.

You look at me, very suddenly. Have you been watching me for long? Was I just caught in the act of worshipping you? There is no way to decipher that smile, and suddenly I feel so young. A year between us in age, a lifetime in mind. I am shrinking in front of you but the pain in my chest is out of shame for giving you a reason to leave me.

Though you're not mine (my heart is objecting heavily) and so I can not accuse you for leaving me. I wish I could, my entire body is silently screaming out for you. My heart is synchronizing itself with yours and I reduce my breath even more, in a last desperate try to give you everything I have. And you speak, I can see your lips form different words. I can't hear a sound and my eyes are tearing for not being able to focus. Please don't notice, please keep on speaking.

And as if a bubble has burst, the fog has dispersed and I can hear. You speak with a twist, there is a playful tone on the tip of your tongue. Some people would call it an accent. I would say it is a dance among words. And if it is an accent, then it is the weakest spot I have, this love for your accent. Your eyes are smiling, and I dare smiling back. A hand is stretched out and in a moment of spontanious non-thinking I take it. It's a risk. But you'are not letting go, and we are still smiling.


~

The moon is silver

they say

I am no longer sure

In non-coloured sky, I can only see that the moon is gray

I wish the clouds were hiding it

(I wish)

But they are not mine to control

Why won't you let me?

I wish I was in control of the clouds

I wish it was possible to turn off the moon

to turn off hunger

to turn off hate

to turn off us without breaking me down to the bottom

Becoming filled to the top with nothing

Nothing

(like you)

Is it our garden that is dying

or is it us

I am no longer sure

maybe it is love is dying from us

And my hands are cold, from reaching out for you

What has happened to your hands?

On the other side of the equator

Maybe we should give up

Maybe we should stop fighting back

maybe we should let the moon hide

from us

before we make it black

Is there still hope

Is there still rain in the air

To save our garden

To save the moon

from me

from us

We are slowly emptying our hearts

And I will never be able to help you unless you let me

My heart is almost empty, it is almost filled to the top with nothing

Nothing

(like you)

Reverse us before we become like the moon

Hiding behind clouds

On the edge to not existing

twohundred days of the year

Might as well not exist at all

I want us to be

Why won't you let us

Let me

fight the nothing

fight it all

Fight for the sunflowers in our garden

(Fight for me)

Filling my heart with rage

Filling it with the absence of you

Writing poetry in anger and frustration

Fight the black moon inside of the heart of you


~

Fångad av enfärgade tröjor
och ändlösa kopior av enfärgade människor
som säger "Skyll dig själv."
 "Du har köpt en biljett."

Jag andas på fönstret och det bildas imma

(Rädda mig)

Någon försöker bryta men omedvetet skapar han ett mönster
genom sina stänk av graffiti
eller svordomar som bildar nya SAOL-lösa ord
Var hör ord hemma utan en bok att skrivas i?
Men jag har redan hört allt
Var hör ord hemma utan någon som lyssnar?

(Rädda mig)

Tågkonduktören matchar de lila sätena som matchar
imman på fönstret när jag viskar till dig
Du som sitter på tåget bredvid
och jag vet att du är som jag
Du längtar efter solrosors doft på en balkong högt över marken,
efter mängder av honung i te så att kyssar smakar sött som i sagor
och tillsammans kan vi segla på våra drömmar istället för att fika här bredvid
eller se hela världen på nytt istället för filmer som vi redan sett förut
Men du är långt bort i tankar och jag försöker vinka men du ser mig inte.
Jag är gömd bakom imman jag skapat i mina viskningar till dig.

(Låt mig rädda dig)



~