two.

so I've waited some time

I observed your habits of

getting drunk'n calling me

finally we sat down and talked

every sentence of yours just couldn't finish without taking a sip, a drag, breathing a hopeless breath,

but you let me listen to everything

you talked and handed me all of your broken puzzle pieces like little-lego-details, but you didn't care what I built with it

and I would like to switch the language, would like to talk

more than mother tongue, more than any talking, I would like to read you, all of your body language

I would like to speak you like a new found way to communicate,

but

it's not that easy

you offered me your thoughts of falling, getting down,

jumping actually,

jumping in front of that train

you looked into my eyes and waited for some kind of reaction,

but I just wanted you to finish,

cause sitting in front of me right now means that you haven't done anything

again

you drank and looked for another cigarette

I kind of smiled,

noticing your habits as if I'd be watching a work of art

it was last sunday

as you wanted to end this

it was me saying:

"that's too much of work for a sunday"

and you seriously laughed

"true."

we sat there in silence as you spilled it out like poison eating you from the inside out:

"I'm so sick of wanting love. I'm sick of hating myself. how do I make all of this pain stop? all of this screaming inside my head. I just want it to stop.

all of it."

so I took your glass and emptied it

"explain what love means to you."

you said

but

"if I could explain

my definition of love,

I wouldn't ever have

to write a poem

again"

was my answer

still is

and I still don't know

if I may help you at all

if any of it helps

I think you don't know it yourself,

but

I didn't leave that night

not because you were sad,

just because I wanted to stay

stay right next to you laying in bed and watching stars through your open windows,

exchanging music we missed to listen to for quite a long time,

shared memories of another world

and maybe

me staying,

people wanting you in their life

is all you should really know to explore that

every thought about death is

at least in your case

a desperate search for love

and

how crazy as it seems

love is already surrounding you

you're not alone

I'm already there

so

you don't have to end anything

except hating yourself for being human, for feeling weak,

you really just need to allow yourself to be not okay

"try it"

was what I offered you to do

"what?"

"try to feel it, try to heal, try to move on, get up and take life as yours. at least try it."

"why?"

"cause that's what you've already started last sunday."

it was a sunday two days ago

one poem is left

one part

to just end all of this