Und dann stehen wir in Jeans
bis zum Knie in der Nordsee,
lassen uns den Wind um die
Ohren blasen und schlafen
im Kofferraum, mit Meerblick.
Dann radeln wir Hand in Hand
auf gestohlenen Rädern durch
Berlin und singen aus vollem
Hals dein Lieblingslied, während
die Sonne im Osten aufgeht.
Gemeinsam stehen wir irgendwo
auf dem Gipfel eines Berges der
im letzten Jahrhundert das erste
Mal bezwungen wurde und machen
peinliche Fotos mit deiner Kamera.
Wir besuchen meine Oma und
lassen uns Apfelkuchen und
Kakao schmecken, schlafen auf
ihrem alten Sofa und gehen
nach dem Frühstück unserer Wege.
Lassen uns im Museum einschlie
sonnet 130 an interpretation by frau-chan, literature
Literature
sonnet 130 an interpretation
My mistress’ eyes burn like the sun,
coral-red and seething hot they
strip my skin.
Her lips whisper mysteries into the
snow-white air between us. They
drown me in their perfection.
Her breasts rise subtly with
every dark chuckle that shreds my
soul.
Hair is a dark ocean of the
unkown secrets she keeps.
The roses, red and white, under her
feet mourn the second she walks on.
The laughter in her cheeks, the
perfumes she’s so fond of
delight my every breath.
I love her when she speaks;
the sound is music,
shaking my heart.
My goddess, my queen.
I weep whenever she walks
by my window.
My love.
rain on a roof is
like your breath on my skin.
calming, soothing.
soft taps of bare feet
on a wooden floor
wake me, because it
means you come to
see me in the night.
cool fingers on
my skin are always
welcome, since they are yours.
you are like rain,
like sun, like clouds, like sky.
you are everything I need.
My bones cracked when I stretched and you shot a smile at me.
there should be a licence for that sort of smile
I thought and ducked my head.
Hadn’t I ducked my head at that time I would have seen your smile turn sad, because I was too shy to smile back.
After the summer I cut my hair short like a boys’.
My mother wept, my father shook his head and took a swig of his bottle.
My grandmother shrugged and said that I would grow it back someday.
My sister shot a disgusted look at me and called me a dyke.
At that time I had no idea what it meant.
You looked at me in awe when you saw my short hair for the first time.
It made my heart s