Our cultural food

in culturvultur •  7 years ago  (edited)

I, who is still faithful to wait.
I realize, your presence can not come to me anymore,
I realize, your smile is not fixed for me anymore,
I realize, your laughter, now no longer with me.

But, I still be patient waiting for you to come back,
though I do not know for sure,
will you really come back to me again?

Often I fight against tears so as not to always spill,
Not infrequently he fell too.
Till then I raced on hope,
You still do not exist.
You stay far away no longer alight.

Should I continue here?
Waiting for the never-desired,
By you who have been casually flirting with feelings.

All right, I'm sure,
I will really wait for you to return home,
But, briefly,
Am I the house you've been to go back to?
Or am I even a worn out veranda?
What you passed and you do not see anymore.
It's true that we cut our inventions to almost never exist again.

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