Forty-Something Years in Ninaland



Photo by Todd Quackenbush on Unsplash


Love is a fire, it cannot feel itself burn.

We walk in circles with the sand between our toes.

Do we even know we are here?

We close our eyes in order to see the sky.

It is much foggier now

since we spit at it with our mad poisonous tongues.

There is no water here, there is no water here

and we talk about the weather as if it’s raining inside us.

As if water is perfect, and we are the flawed ones.

I can sing your songs, and talk your talk

but we cannot stand together because

there is not just you and I

we are more than this small day.

We are all someone that cannot know no one.

I don’t know if you are another person

or just a part of me that is somewhere

You stand there, as if.

As if.


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