We hide under the bed of the loft
You are deeply breathing the dusty air
And hardly refrained to cough

You tremblingly grabbed my hand
Eyes looked at the top
Asked me
"What are you thinking?"


I saw the sweat come from your skin
And the blood comes from your neck
Through the light I could see
Dust was sticking on coagulated blood


Yes
Why did that only particular redundant light hole
Have to illuminate us
We would be found !

Your heavy breath
Could not hide the sound coming from the outdoor
The dragging ax

You held me tight
But I drew away
I got up from the bed and opened the door
Took over the ax that was handed to me

"I was thinking about you."