Forwarded from Виктор
Imagine an apartment you've lived in together with a girl you loved. It's your first time living with someone and you made so many fond memories in this home you've built together.
Then one day she finds someone else and moves out. She take all of her things with her, so now your apartment doesn't feel like a home anymore. It looks like an empty house. Yhat gloomy feeling of emptiness, of being left behind Is what I think of when i hear Tomrum. Tomrum literally translates to "empty room".
Then one day she finds someone else and moves out. She take all of her things with her, so now your apartment doesn't feel like a home anymore. It looks like an empty house. Yhat gloomy feeling of emptiness, of being left behind Is what I think of when i hear Tomrum. Tomrum literally translates to "empty room".
"Before I met her, I drank and swore without reason. Now, I have a reason."
― Benny Hill
― Benny Hill
Azure [6:11]
Paul Kalkbrenner
I guess I snorted some coke and smoked some pot but uh, you know, that was just to make the ecstasy last longer.
No smoke without you, my fire.
After you left,
your cigarette glowed on in my ashtray
and sent up a long thread of such quiet grey
I smiled to wonder who would believe its signal
of so much love. One cigarette
in the non-smoker’s tray.
As the last spire
trembles up, a sudden draught
blows it winding into my face.
Is it smell, is it taste?
You are here again, and I am drunk on your tobacco lips.
Out with the light.
Let the smoke lie back in the dark.
Till I hear the very ash
sigh down among the flowers of brass
I’ll breathe, and long past midnight, your last kiss.
One cigarette - Edwin Morgan
After you left,
your cigarette glowed on in my ashtray
and sent up a long thread of such quiet grey
I smiled to wonder who would believe its signal
of so much love. One cigarette
in the non-smoker’s tray.
As the last spire
trembles up, a sudden draught
blows it winding into my face.
Is it smell, is it taste?
You are here again, and I am drunk on your tobacco lips.
Out with the light.
Let the smoke lie back in the dark.
Till I hear the very ash
sigh down among the flowers of brass
I’ll breathe, and long past midnight, your last kiss.
One cigarette - Edwin Morgan