Zywa My tiger stays in bed

I cry with misery, inside
I collapse, again, again
I have to fire myself
to hold on

Time is short and goes so fast
but I have to go to bed
to lie down with my tiger
and get up with it

Homely chatter in the kitchen
the soup is already smelling and
I know there are candles burning
If only I could sleep

I shiver when I put back the blanket
I'll move the bed to the winter side
My tiger stays in bed
and rolls over again

The dry tears contract
my skin, come on, out
there are blackberries and
smell, smell the fresh bread

I pull myself together
caress the stiff parts
and wrap up myself nicely
as the tiger I've been

Poem 4011
Amsterdam, 2021-10-11

Collection: On living on [1] 
Keyword: Will 
Dedicated to: Maria Godschalk 
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