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.