• Charlotte Eriksson

Another Vagabond Lost To Love

6 months, 2 weeks, 4 days,

and I still don’t know which month it was then

or what day it is now.

Blurred out lines

from hangovers

to coffee,

another vagabond

lost to love.

I felt the storm through my walls last night

and the lighting turned the lights off.

But I don’t know why they all closed their doors

’cause I collected my ropes and wandered by the edge of the water

to see the way nature never gets off track,

and I’ve never seen the world so awake

and full of life

’cause it’s mostly static. It’s mostly still.

But there was chaos like a hurricane

blowing things up in the air

and it looked a lot like it does in me

these days,

behind my ribcage,

and it gave me peace. The way there was order within the storm

for weather has a reason, and




4am alone and on my way,

these are my finest moments.

It’s such a shame no one can see me now,

’cause if they did I swear they would all lift their sights from that safe grey ground and nod their heads and say “she’s on her way” and no one would doubt me like they always do around here,

around me.

But then again, if anyone did see me I bet I wouldn’t walk like I do now,

or sing like I do


like thoughts free flow straight out with the winds

and no one holds me back here,

or tells me where to turn.

This road all mine to keep

and it will last for as long I want it to,

like a sinner stolen by the Gods

and I am not sorry.

I scrub my skin

to rid me from you

and I still don’t know why I cried.

It was just something in the way you took my heart and rearranged my insides and I couldn’t recognise the emptiness you left me with when you were done. Maybe you thought my insides would fit better this way, look better this way, to you and us and all the rest.

But then you must have changed your mind

or made a wrong

because why did you


6 months, 2 weeks, 4 days,

and I still don’t know which month it was then

or what day it is now.

I replace cafés with crowded bars and empty roads with broken bottles

and this town is healing me slowly but still not slow or fast enough because there is no right way to do this.

There is no right way to do this.

// from Another Vagabond Lost To Love

I’m a completely independent artist, living all by myself with no other support than yours. If you find any comfort or hope in what I do, my music or my writings, please consider supporting me, in order to be able to keep doing this. To keep learning, creating, growing and sharing what I learn. Everything matters, between a coffee to a donation for my next album. 

I'm nothing alone ♥



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drunk on someone else’s love,
or couch,
and I’ve never felt more at home.

I fled myself,
from the life I’ve built
because I’ve been inhabiting routines I don’t want to stand for.

Inhabiting skin I’d rather shed
but still took on
like a soldier serving his country,
for that’s what they told me to do.
But I was not
or wise,
but young and foolish,
for what is this thing? Trading passions for a tiny bit of acceptance,

and I am not a Sunday morning inside four walls
with clean blood
and organised drawers.
I am the hurricane setting fire to the forests
at night when no one else is alive,
or awake,
however you choose to see it,
and I live in my own flames.
Sometimes burning too bright and too wild
to make things last 
or handle
myself or anyone else
and so I run.
Run run run,
far and wide
until my bones ache and lungs split
and it feels good.
Hear that, people? It feels good,
because I am the slave and ruler of my own body
and I wish to do with it exactly as I please,
and living in this skin is hard and painful, most of the times,

because I never volunteered to take this on.

The daily sacrifice of heart over mind,
the forever on going task of explaining this and that,
and why I don’t want to look like this and
be like that
but still here I am and if this is the body I’ve been given I’m sure as hell gonna make it work.
If this is the place I’ve been given, I’m sure as hell gonna make this work.

So I fled the me that was never really me and I’m on my way. To newer lands and uncleaned streets
for I’ve had enough of childish safety in comfort.
Enough of all telling me to look and do, like this and that,

and I never meant to please anyone but myself
and you can call me selfish,
throw words like knives in the dark but I will not listen,
for not listening to sharp words brought me to where I am today
and I believe in the path I’ve been given. If my only task in this life is to walk it,
I surely will walk it
prouder than anyone else.

If this is the path I’ve been given, I will walk it
prouder than anyone else,
for no one else can.

// from my book You’re Doing Just Fine ☾

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