Looking For Gold | harp

I carry a match box in my pocket,

I look from a window

the mud is dry,

and I can't find my pencil,

no other love is there for me.

" Take me back,

Where the flood

Was for all"

The curves of my body

Nude and stuffed with tears,

Curtains of silence

Arched over my blank papers.

" aphotic,

And the scent of breasts

Are not salty anymore."

I light a match,

I see palm trees grow

And olives fall on my head.

" Khepera

Is not coming,

And your matches

Can't stop the blood thirst"

I light another match,

And another one,

The frost melts,

Yet, my pencil is not there.

" you are stoned,

And they are drunk,

And they; hold you tight,

Though they are missing with your head,

Living in the sky as they are."

I light the last match,

Mawalai, can I live for another day?

With this light, I can't fall for you,

I am not in love,

Yet my heart is not exactly broken.

" Nun,

As an ovary

Glows with white oleander,

She shall shut up the whoop"

I throw the empty match box,

With bare feet I walk along the bank,

With a chalk, I write a spell on a granite.