Life is too short for boring stories

Inspired by Kieran Halpin „Fragile Heart“ from the CD „Doll“

it was because I wanted you to stay with you. “Can I paint you a picture of what is happiness?” I asked you, and you wanted to hear it, because it would not matter whether you were going now or later. It would no longer matter. You thought that, and I knew it, even if you did not say it. I saw it in your eyes that reflected the conclusion. And it was not just a kind of thing, but a firm decision. Just like mine, to paint you a picture of happiness. Or maybe it was just a disclosure of what you had painted black. And my painting utensils were my words, not paint and brush, but not less colorful.

I dance. Naked feet on damp grass. A long black dress. Engraved and flattering to the hips, yet stretchy to the body, the breathing. Wide and airy to the ankles, worn by the wind’s melody. The flowers lift their heads when my feet are next to them. Always adjacent to the cliffs, the ramparts surrendered. And the setting sun casts its fiery rays upon my reddened face. And you will stretch my hand, draw me to you. Do you hear it too, the melody of the wind? And you give the words to the melody.

I sit. Naked feet on the couch. The legs lie loosely over yours. I understand your words better when I can see and feel you. You take my hands. But again and again they break out, for I need them to speak. You cannot tame them. You do not want it either. The laughter is always on fire. What we are talking about, I do not understand. The words flow as a melody of friendly intimacy. I want to give you a kiss on the nasal tip. So I tip my lips and follow the impulse. You look at me annoyed. Playing anger. Do you hear the melody of unrestrained laughter? And you give the words to the melody.

I go. Naked feet on asphalt. Surrounded by people with shoes. All wear shoes. I look down on the ground because I am ashamed, so discarded. Am I the only one who cannot stand any more shoes? I cannot breathe when I am not connected to the earth. And also do not dance. And also not laugh. And not to paint or even to reveal pictures, certainly not from luck. The earth vibrates in its own melody, with which I can only resonate when I feel it. And when I recognize you, I begin to run because I cannot reach you fast enough. And you took off your shoes. Do you feel the melody of the earth? And you give the words to the melody.

I cry. The pain, with all its intensity, the omnipotence, makes me tremble. Anger and swoon and helplessness. Everything senseless. Then you take me in the arm. Even if I hit your breast with all my force, you will not let go of me. Even if I scratched your face. You will not let go of me. You hold me because I do not mean you, but everything else. I do not know exactly what. Slowly my tears ebbing into a sobbing into exhaustion. You will not let go of me. Your hand strokes my cheek. You’re holding me. I lean my forehead against your shoulder. Do you love the melody of life? And you give the words to the melody.

And it was my image of happiness, which I painted or even exposed to you with words. Maybe you’d stay. At least by you. It would be a happy day.


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