Telefoon

I'm eating your voice like it's sugar and it is: raw brown sugar on a spoon. The phone is a spoon. Your voice is inside the phone. I'm inside your rainbows, ice. I hear beeps (the time runs out and we're disconnecting again. Outside the weather reporter runs around on cloud nine because here's another sunny day! I told you so. Translation engine, re-kindle these lonely spoons! I'm a hurried shower or a missed train. Some things remain constant: freckles, sunshine and coffee. Others start to blur: time differences, texts and dreams, expressing new beginnings, small bird calls.

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