The Clouds up in the Sky are a Cliché

Fast seagulls penetrate the sky
Silently
Downtown traffic, golden rooftops
Oh! Her legs! Thin ankles
Those cars look like they are in a hurry
There’s no point in wasting time

Mein Gott! Her breasts were wonderful
Smelled like roses
The clouds up in the sky
Are a cliché
But they’ll leave tomorrow morning
Like it or not
An existential dark night
Sinking flagships in your mind

And she was lonely
Delicate, complicated
Some sort of vampire, trust me
One bet you’d better lose
A mockery of a woman
However dignified
Or perhaps a child
Not a bird in the sky

Published by

Andrea Loquenzi Holzer

The truth will set you free

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