purple wounds

I don't know what you wrote in that poem

I wish I could read your poem

As easily as you could wake at dawn

And I'll read it, eventually

It'll be written on the side of the mountain

It'll be written in the colors of the leaves, of the dead trees in the Fall

In a place where flowers would never die

Just to witness that

For you, harder I'll try.

To get once again lost in that grove

Where I wish we'd never come out

Because in there it was so terribly beautiful

With the breeze we shouted

Our two bodies, in the air, collided

And on our shiny limbs, let a warm shiver run along.

Once I get back to this place

I'll read it in the water

From the river that ran through the crooked house of my old town

And I'll read it in the sand

It'll be written with a branch

Then it'll wipe away with a wave

And only one thing would be left to say

That for you it never has been true

"I'm sorry I made you think that it was all about you".

Reality isn't as crisp as it used to be

But at least now I'm free...

Am I?

For now, you watch me sleep a couple hours more

But in my heart I already feel pain

A forshadow that would hold on to me like a stain

That you'll be soon gone

Already I can feel it in my bones

So I wish I could equal your strength

Before it's too late and you'll put us in chains

Prisonner of the orchard where trees grow

I never thought we'd once turn into foe.

And yet,

I don't know what you wrote in that poem.