He thinks....
He thinks....
He thinks that in his nailed hands
I'm nothing but a toy.
I don’t think I’ll go back to him.
Today, everything has changed
As if nothing had ever happened.
And with the innocence of angels from the skies
in the look in his eyes,
He tells me: I am the keeper of this place,
And that I am his one true love.
He brought me flowers.
How could I not accept them?
And all the naivety of youth
I found again in his gentle smile.
I no longer remember... the fire in your eyes.
How did I find myself in his arms?
I laid my head on his chest, proud,
Like a child returned to their father or mother.
Even my long-abandoned dresses
danced at his feet, all of them.
I forgave him… and asked how he had been.
And I cried for hours under his armpit.
And without thinking, I gave him my hand,
So it could sleep like a bird in his.
And I forgot all my hatred in a fraction of a second.
Who said I held a grudge against him?
How many times did I say I’d never return?
And yet I came back.
My return is wonderful.
To my first love.
Dr. Fouad Bouchareb
All rights reserved
Toulouse, May 29, 2025
Partager:
He thinks....
copier:
https://bluwr.com/p/407027926
He thinks....
He thinks....
He thinks that in his nailed hands
I'm nothing but a toy.
I don’t think I’ll go back to him.
Today, everything has changed —
As if nothing had ever happened.
And with the innocence of angels from the skies
in the look in his eyes,
He tells me: I am the keeper of this place,
And that I am his one true love.
He brought me flowers.
How could I not accept them?
And all the naivety of youth
I found again in his gentle smile.
I no longer remember... the fire in your eyes.
How did I find myself in his arms?
I laid my head on his chest, proud,
Like a child returned to their father or mother.
Even my long-abandoned dresses
danced at his feet, all of them.
I forgave him… and asked how he had been.
And I cried for hours under his armpit.
And without thinking, I gave him my hand,
So it could sleep like a bird in his.
And I forgot all my hatred in a fraction of a second.
Who said I held a grudge against him?
How many times did I say I’d never return?
And yet I came back.
My return is wonderful.
To my first love.
Dr. Fouad Bouchareb
All rights reserved
Toulouse, May 29, 2025
Partager:
He thinks....
copier:
https://bluwr.com/p/407027922
