Shall we? 🔊


you look at me
I look at you
and we both know that we could

if we wanted to

but you want protective rules:
weekdays are for working
and Sundays you need to do your laundry

what about Saturday afternoons?
Saturday afternoons between 2 and 4.30 could work?
in between surf and sunset beers with the boys
you could text me during the day to confirm
you really DO want to keep seeing me
I inspire you, you say – I’m such a free and spontaneous soul!

you look at me, in anticipation
I look at you, trying to make sense of your words
and I know that we could, if we wanted to
but I guess you don’t

not enough

what I hear you saying is that you want to suck the freedom and spontaneity out of my veins, bottle it up and drink it between 2 and 4.30 on Saturday afternoons?
like you take a health supplement instead of eating greens

I’m not fucking Berocca!

you look at me, then look away
I look at you, and try to understand

I don’t

I look away

you look at me
you look away

we both know we could
we both know it could be absolutely frighteningly beautiful
but no, not with those rules around it

not with freedom bottled up as a supplement

we’d better not look…



I Close My Bud 🔊


my fear?
that you will change me

no, you’re right
that I will change myself in your presence
become something i’ve lost control of
in the worst of ways
and in doing so, wither and die

yes control, that’s what i’m craving
disguised as freedom and easy-goingness
autonomy and independence
but what it comes down to in the end, is control
the power of being exactly. precisely. me.
and i don’t trust myself to be strong enough to stay still in your storm
it’s as simple as that

so instead of trust I choose avoidance
a safer option
here, by myself, hidden, i can stay in control
it’s the closest thing to an escape route
it’s running without running
just as efficient, just not as uprooting

some people are trees, and sometimes I envy them
their roots are deep in the ground
storms may shake their crowns, but they stand firm, rather unchangeable

i’m not a tree

i’m a flower

a beautiful proud flower by the side of the road
and people who notice me stop to admire
and i freeze in fear and close my bud
hoping hoping hoping they will walk on, that they will not bend down and pick me
bring me home and put me in a vase and tell me who I am!


isn’t that a flower’s destiny, too?
to inspire
to shine and be admired?
why am I judging that path?

most flowers shine in anonymity, hidden on a field for no one to see
some flowers are raised to be admired, bred for inspiration, products of the flower entertainment industry
with a clear path, a set destiny
a label, a vase, a place on a table or a window sill

and then again some flowers simply happen to be born by the side of a road
with a POSSIBILITY to be seen
a choice to shine at the risk of being noticed, picked and altered
or to close their buds when someone approaches to ensure that at least when no one is watching, they can be exactly. who. they. are.

my fear?
that you would change me

but maybe you would simply pick me with love, carefully carry me home, remove those broken blades to bring out my uttermost beauty, put me somewhere where you can always see me, and let me fill you with joy, presence, gratitude, love

maybe that’s what you would do
if I didn’t close my bud by the mere sound of your footsteps…