All those small things (183)

For her it meant nothing,

for him the whole universe divided into fairytales,

words were speechless.

individuals need little to feel alive;

the primordial smile,

a sunset in those arms,

a sunrise with those childish kisses,

a smoke from a forgotten cigarette,

a hot coffee before going to work,

your mum’s hug,

your grandma’s cookies,

your best friend’s call,

the sound of that unique voice,

a spoken letter

or just music.

just a little to feel

what they never told you would be real.

she never understood…

Writing a poem a day for 1 year. This is lucky number 183. Thanks for reading.

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