prose: to the girl living on the moon

Standing by my own, Likeness   -   Sebastian Blanck ,2017

Why did you have to go? 

I understand, that little voice in your head, once telling you to brush your teeth or to not forget your homework today suddenly turns on you and suggests to go. It’s time to leave.  That feeling is as familar as family. 

If only the sun shone on your eyes that moment, warming your whole face. If only you heard a strange bird call and wondered of its species.  If only you saw someone laughing, head back, roaring and you smiled too.

 I wish that voice would've shut up, it knows nothing. It remembers nothing, except the black clouds and bad memories, that have already past.  It starts its supercut, making  you cry, cringe, convincing you so much that  you can’t take it. 

 Love is a gentle thing, I’ve had quick bites and even the smallest crumb can satisfy the voice, put it to bed. That actually, I can and will take it. 

I did not know you. But I understand. I picked flowers on Jura, threw them in the running waterfall. 

 I give you love, simple and unfussy. imagine it as a handful of daises clumsily thrusted towards you by a child with a toothy smile. 

I give you love, warm enough like a meal with your family. 

 I just wish you were here to receive it.