With Véronique and diapers, with Véronique and diapers!
Bang! Oh my God, I just realized… I’m in love with you!
You, my girl, sorry, adolescent girl, stand in front of our classroom,
nervously holding your violin and looking at me.
You’ll do alright, don’t fear, I’m here and will be all the time.
The melody is by far not perfect, she scratches here and there,
playing the most euphonious song I have ever heard.
I’m still here, where have you gone?
Vanished. Sending the friend you had sent once before
but this time to tell me you won’t come back. Though I listened to your song.
Where are those slips of paper during art lessons?
Wasn’t your dad angry I kissed you in front of him?
All that remained is art. Art with you, with every other girl but one.
Hence my wish to become an artist. I’ll never be.
Could you please stop texting me the same message over and over again?
As if I had been stalking you.
Doesn’t help. I can’t explain myself. So I run around for days
trying to figure out why you got that message fifty times
but they tell me they can’t do anything about that.
It’s too late anyway.
Disappeared. Foreign country. Maybe in this one. Maybe even in the neighbouring town.
That’s what they told me at least. But I really don’t know. And I’m not sure I want to.
Now I look at a picture of you taken over a year ago.
And I wonder if I could ever fall out of love with you.
Love I wish would only belong to God.
Love, the art of God.
First love, the forsaken land.