in the small kitchen of rented apartment above the busy street 

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he holds me and i feel i am holding the entire world
in the small kitchen of rented apartment above the busy street

my daughter scratched the walls with pencils she found
in the deceased old woman’s home, we recently started to consider as our own

he looks at me from the opposite side of the table
while we are having a breakfast
as Barry an old-fashioned gentlemen says – a lady needs to see and to be seen –
our breakfast is being interrupted with many cigarette breaks and i keep stealing a glance at boiled eggs and toast in front of me
searching for the words i lost somewhere between bread crumbs, at the bottom of ashtray or between the feelings i cannot explain on neither of two languages
but I smile
thinking about the night before and how is possible we traveled so faraway by being in bed and drinking wine straight from the bottle
it’s dawn already and I articulate that
his eyes are like increased almonds consisting all the sweetness of our favorite croissants from the French bakery across the street
I guess I was unconsciously hungry when I entered the idea of food metaphor, or simply seduced by this sensational celebration of life we are having
in the small kitchen of rented apartment above the busy street, while making a coffee in his marine blue sweater
with his sense in my curls
i am thinking about us making love the night before, that morning and just now
while i am struggling with the unknown state of heart & mind,
to understand this sudden lost of sanity we encountered together
hoping i will reach some common knowledge that was unfairly hidden from both of us

to enlighten me
if happiness is truly just an allegory as we wish to believe?
or is it wanting what you get out of the life
in the small kitchen of rented apartment above the busy street?

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