Hi!

I don't have much left to give you .

Once my words were gardens and a forest.  

They smiled at me and you 

The poems were my art

and the essays? - A way to say "I don't know how long i can hold on ".

I will miss the summer -

I wrote maybe every other night and felt inspired 

with ideas that stayed in my room

until the night was over .

And hey, i know that's no way to say goodbye,

but I'm not good at wanting things to end 

yet i think i would like - very much -

for things to stay beautiful .                                                                                          ( instead of forcing them ) 

I wish i could stay , too. 

My whole self was exposed to you 

in some pages- it poured down as honey 

offered as a gift

The most intimate thing !

I don't know how to write anymore

I'm in the train station and I'm quite now

I chose the journey and I confused my lover . 

You 've  experienced the fate of Ophelia leaving

leaving in doses 

leaving for good

and bye

in a not so beautiful poetic way

as it used to be .

Would you ever have loved that version of me ?

All the nineteen ninety seven wind and wind is blowing.

Honesty blows inside the hair that is combed 

Each comb , one wish 

My love goes with you 

your love stays with me 

She's happy that you've come. 

Munich , 30/11/25