XXLove letters

 

 

 

When the poetry of Jack the Ripper, Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde just began,

 

 

 

My breath balanced and tight rope walked,

You were proud and a little bit insecure,

You pulled the bed sheet away to reveal my insanity in insanity of your work,

You had painted life after death,

It was neither Hell nor Paradise,

It occurred every day,

It was close at hand,

It was near,

 

 

She sat on the floor like a beast that was scared,

 She wore a printed silk charmeuse robe,

You had painted a ghost in the antique shop,

It was superb,

She looked exactly like Francoise,

All in all God is kind,

He sent her to Paradise situated on Earth,

Paradise in Montmartre,

The name of the painting was Pop that is Paradise or prison,

 

Your Francoise didn't know,

People must share their failures with their loved ones,

It is the way they move on,

Francoise loved stories and fairy tales with happy endings,

Poor woman did not understand,

Why people leased other hearts,

Why they leased theirs,

The most devalued currency is human feelings,

So ignorance wasn't her fault,

 

She forgot what she used to dream about,

On rare occasions she tried to recollect,

The day we met her,

She was too quiet,

If she recollects her dreams,

She will be able to leave and live in peace somewhere else,

In the place with no stores,

 

It was the first story we wrote together,

It became an aquarelle,

It wasn't about ghosts,

It wasn't about femme de ménage,

It was about consumption,

Borrowed vanity, empty ambitions,

Disappointment and sorrows,

Horrors of modern life.

 

P.S. When the sea turtle became wolf grey,

But it should have been turquoise.