I Took Your Hand, Not Your Name Poem by Zyw Zywa

When the sun does not yet give warmth
I get up with the duvet around me
and half behind the curtain I look
down the street, the first people

don't go anywhere, around the block
with dogs that follow scents
I always find it scary
whether they want to bite me

Again I think of you, of the hours
in which I was waiting for you
in the windowsill half behind the curtain
between reproach and longing
looking down the street

I look at the dogs and I look
at my empty hands
my legally empty hands
unharmed, nothing to tell

You only bit yourself out
of my bare heart
It is cold
I pull the duvet over me