Do you remember the days when we were friends…
when that fertile field felt funny under my feet
with stones that ricocheted razor-sharp
against the pillars of Reichstag and grazed
against my swollen back.
New napalmed Nazi signs blazed
and branded onto the timid tender
arms of you, a Catholic girl that shaded and shifted your
arms with pulsing childlike blended skin.
Chilling and chastising accounts of open canopies
marred the city’s blooming clouds that were
floating over the crafty graffiti on the wall and
floating by a breeze that blazed over the rumbling S-Bahn.
Your hasty heaving screams pierced near my body
blocking my bloodshot bursting eyes
shifted once by the steel-glazed guns and
shifted by broken daisies left dangling and deserted.
For now, you and I will still remain under close watch
under their piercing, tranquil stares
praying that the gloom of the city will swallow us
praying that the memories of our mind will vanish
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