Sans titre

I fall

She has no age. Young, old, is carried off the fragments of his existence disjointed.
She knew too early, given too much, too quickly fled. And the dust catchs her, snaps her, drunks her and penetrates her dry throat. So dry.
She falls. She falls but does not yield.
She feels filled, full of rubble of her life. Flickering and serene.
She is not fragile, go your way giving lessons with your scarlet pupils. Her transparency is only apparent. Her depth, her no more flesh, her intimate moods, her blood
strangled in her veins are only invite you to bend your look.

Do not look at me. I am without you, I am, that's all. Light betrayed me of my lack dummy. I avoid you and offer me. Leave me alone. Take me in your arms heard once, only once. Hand will one day wither on my shoulder. One evening, a cheek will embrace my bones crushed. Do not worry.

I'm fine. I'm nothing.
I seek the shade.
I seek and falls.


Gilles BARP, artiste expressionniste - +33 6 46 63 30 70 - gilles.barp.artiste@gmail.com 

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