Is it what we think it is?

I want it to work.
For everything to be
back
the way it was.
Things used to
have flavor.
I want to taste them
again.
I'm lost in
what I had.
I dream about it,
when I sleep.
I don't sleep much,
because
hope keeps me
awake.
My mind tells me,
"Hope is
waiting for me,
out there."

Reviews

[...]

Ah, this is wonderful!

"Things used to
have flavor."

[Red Rose]

nice . . . i like the elusiveness of the poem. i don't think there is anyone who couldn't connect with your words in some way.

[a]

My life doesn't have any flavour too, none, anymore, i'm even thinking, that there never was any flavour, at all.
Thank you for this!