The Mimosa

he saw the mimosa on his balcony
it was small and inconspicious
anyhow, it still lasts in his memory
a simple plant he misses

nothing is comparable, nothing is the same
a plant whose hug on ones fingers will always remain
nothing is comparable, nothing is the same
a plant, which only reacts by touch - a waiting game

the mimosa was gone and other plants grew
and one was even a perfect projection
but it was different and it was new
and couldn’t reply to his affection

by s.g.


a disease is killing me
and i won’t heal.
a disease is killing me,
like a knife in my chest, made out of steel.

first my heart ‘s on hurry,
then my stomach hurts.
my lungs fill with fear
and my brain will stop to work.

'what is it?',
i asked the stranger,
‘why won’t it heal?’.
he kissed me and smiled
and i understood.

i fell in love.

by snrgndmr