Cut

I cut off my hands, today.
I've left them over you,
somewhere,
well stuck to your skin surface ...

Now I watch them from afar,
they still hold you tight:
They're holding your arms ...

But this watching act is like a touching act,
and I'm on you again, with the fingers of my eyes ...

Don't you feel my hands, today?
Don't you see them over you, again,
With nails as memories?

I'm giving them back to you,
Together with the times we met
And our tireless whispers ...

And while I'm falling back,
I turn my eyes away and give you back all my life ...

Look at me, if you really want:
I'm trying to fade away ...
Cold floors like a quicksand ...

I sink and think of you,
And the lines of your face:
Words from me, as your wrinkles ...

Don't you save me from this falling?
I'm giving up ...