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break up poem

hängen Sie keinen Wreath
durch die rude Brücke
wie wild, wie Hexe-wie sonderbares, das das Leben sein sollte
die Qual des Habens zu vieler Energie
gerade als meine Finger auf diesen Schlüsseln
die Dämmerung war apfelgrün
und so geht sie
rückwärts drehen Sie sich rückwärts
Melancholie, Blau war sie
ich sah die erste Birne
alle jene Schätze, die liegen

 



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