Zywa My life as a ghost

My memory talks
to people just long enough
to get rid of them neatly
They don't demand answers
it's enough that I don't run away

Then why do I long
for contact, why don't I feel
anything? Because of the sense
that it is not possible
or is it due to the pills?

Will I get my body back
will I ever smell where I am
and no longer feel straight
through myself and others
with thin memories

from the time I learned
to behave
as if it matters
and I'm interesting
worth loving?

Poem 2993
Amsterdam, 2020-06-07

Collection: Local contractions 
Keyword: Depression 
Zywa
Home5-7-5
PencilPumiceRainLoves
CompressedBirdsIflessPhoto
Attention is like sunshineMention © Zywa when using texts,
drawings, designs, paintings and photos
Search word:  CTRL-F