He left without having come
he died without having lived,
he loved no one that
he had never met.
Pragmatics of life
absent of madness and altruism,
of dead-end rules
in a world without fantasy
of catwalks without destination …
of withered horizons
and meaningless words.
She left without having come
I loved her more than my life
and I haven’t met her yet.
Own poem.
Image source:
https://pin.it/2C6bzn3