I recently read a book of love poems written by Bertolt Brecht.
They were not very good.
There was one that was okay.
I will put it, here:
When I Left You, Afterwards...
When I left you, afterwards
On that great today
I saw nothing, when I began
To see, but gaiety.
Since that evening, that hour
You know the one I mean
Livelier is my stride and more
Beautiful this mouth of mine.
Greener are, now that I feel,
Meadow, bush and tree,
The water is more lovely cool
That I pour over me.
--Bertolt Brecht (I don't know the specific year)
You see what I mean. It's okay. I like the last two lines.
In other news, I have been having that particular stripe of gender dysphoria, again. That kind that leaves me dressed in roughly a three piece suit, but with my fingers painted a bright, popsicle red-orange and the tiniest strawberry decal on my left index finger. Tie wear and thigh harnesses.
It is springtime, but there will forever be the quasi-uniformed femmey boy who occupies my genders.
be well; be loved,
k.
(Image: Pierre Molinier, Sans titre 1960, via fiac tumblr)
(Title: Line of the aforementioned Brecht poem that was okay.)
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