Maybe

Words have always been powerful,
descriptive, explanatory,
yet deceitful,
you take it how you want it
Especially when it comes to love,
they always use a language
I could never understand
So I try
to transform them to numbers,
because they never lie.

Of all 42 times
the moons have shown its full face,
only in the first ten,
you made my tide rose
with joy and sunshine and poetry
the rest you left me covered
with sorrow,
darkness and nothingness
Less than a quarter of time
of our whole togetherness
you made my heart warm
yet every time your name flashes up again,
I still hope this time it could be it.

Maybe this is what they mean,
when they talk of love.

AB – 4.8.17

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