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Writer's pictureTasnádi Nóra

Self-love


Causing rain as a sudden death on those who still remain,

While she slowly walks on her tendentious path towards the Unknown.


Am I the luckiest to watch her fade and bloom like a forgotten rose?

Or she chose me to be her partner in what narrow-minded people call

“Unconditional love”?


Wish I could write obsessively, with maddening hunger,

Creating manuscripts trampled by time like falling leaves,

While she’s only observing the greener grass in the neighbourhood…


Instead I stayed silent watching myself wither one step at a time,

‘till I unwillingly started to fathom:

She covered herself with fog and disappeared in the unrevealing night.


My mind stopped as I felt relief knowing-

She’s not coming back.

I’m the one who’s left to bring back the light.


Tasnádi Nóra XII. H

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