baby girls and mademoiselles I

The girl of the despairing eyes
Stares at the void
And beholds the abyss with no amazement.
The girl of the despairing eyes
Does not state dates or times to the sunset.
The girl of the mournful eyes,
Knows what love is and so she cries.
The girl,
With boiled lips as blood
Saw the wind
Running away from her hands
But her despairing eyes couldn’t follow it.

baby girls and mademoiselles II

( …To me a kiss was the physical love of two solitudes, of two lives bond with anguish. The crucial support of the unbroken charm. A white spot during August. Though it felt as the unbearable heat of disbelief…)

baby girls and mademoiselles III

The girl who is cuddled
Is already speaking in another language.
And within her words, she pictures a bridge
Which she didn’t have
Or feared
Or ended.
The Mademoiselle who is embraced
Fades into butterflies
Lullabies
Dragonflies
While the world fades conveniently.
Dreaming with days that will not come
With leaves which will not fall.
With the white and the blue,
With the innocent anguish that will not get lost.

The girl of the sad eyes, when cuddles
Does not argue if the day ends
Or if the night crumbles.
The girl who is cuddled
Mourns when the rite dies.