Jealousy of a passport

2 04 2014

(Inspired by and Dedicated to a dear friend)

It started with a passport.
The booking of a flight.
The printing of tickets.
the packing of bags and
it will end with the kisses of goodbye.

Waiting is the hardest part.
Calender dates don’t get crossed off fast enough.
There you are getting held more often by him
than she ever will be.
You are a blank book he is willing to fill
and she is a full heart waiting to empty into him.

He holds you preciously,
losing you would end the fun,
the adventure and the excitement.
He keeps you tucked away in his
left breast pocket, closed to his warm beating heart,
a place where she should be.
he left her inside his cold dark closet
together with the dust-covered photos of ‘home’.
He didn’t need to pack her.

As soon as he returns,
he calls you to his side again.
The taste of travel is much more addicting
than any drug. She can’t compete with you.
You offer too much freedom, too much excitement,
too much wonder and ask for nothing in return.
Except to renew your relationship
with him every 5 years.
No woman can compete with you.
But she will still try

It actually started with a whiskey.
She bought it for him.
Looking at them you know,
you are in the presence of something great.
You would have never expected it to end with a lone whiskey
or with kisses of goodbye



1 04 2014

I wonder how you see me.
I try to look into your eyes
hoping to find the answers
I seek but I always fail.

They constantly seem clouded
or void, like the light is on
but no one is at home, no one is
listening, no one is there

to get the door when the doorbell
starts ringing. I walk into an empty
house with the illusion that you
are leading me down the hall

that you have offered me coffee.
That we are having a conversation
Instead, what I see is a ghost
or a figment of my imgaination

at best.