Suffer is an artist's seed

My bag was filled with no expectations

Not in order to diminish the illusions in my head

For I only felt fear of empty relations

I never thought I’d feel comfortable in your bed

Established thoughts released from a spinning mind

We talked about art, about literature, about life

Your wise words and my curiosity perfectly combined

Through us the legends of the past could easily survive

Minor magic moments arose from the waves of the sea

If this was happiness, I would know where to look

I would know how my body could finally be free

And how Kerouac put that thought into his famous book

Mystery appeared when you showed me your inner soul

It was not that I felt a distance, it was rather close indeed

But it was the lightness in me that you secretly stole

Sadness is the base of beauty and suffer is an artist’s seed

Instinctively I knew that I had never been one to belong

My mind had always been lost and my feelings quite intense

Still had it been you that made the confusion so strong

Do I feel heavier or lighter after this short yet pure romance?

The connection is damaged and everything is dust

Yet the relief is tremendous since it was not only lust

It was an easy route to a troubled life, the life of the dazzling damned