Don't speak harshly,
Your words will form swords in me
Touch my cheek; speak gently,
And they will form worlds in me
Apr 24, 2022
Apr 24, 2022 at 10:27 PM UTC
He
Broke my wings
So I couldn’t
Fly
So I stole his soul
So he couldn’t
Die
Dec 26, 2018
Dec 26, 2018 at 12:17 AM UTC
A year goes round again,
The winters are ringing the bell,
It reminds me of you, and you.
The warmth you hold in you,
And my only faith.
Winters are harsh here,
More harsh it is in my cold heart,
Frozen is my soul,
Trapped in time.
I wonder, if you ever could, for once,
Trap me in you,
Let me breath in you.
Every evening brings reminiscence of our tales,
Yet, it ends in me and not reach you.
I know, the sun shines bright there,
In my home, way back there,
I wish I would have sat facing it,
And not like, I always turned my back towards it .
Today I know, how sacred it was,
To not let my heart freeze, so often.
I know the mornings would still have mist with it,
And the grasses would be wet,
They always has the pleasure to tickle your feet.
Here wet it is, dew drops,
That fall from my eyes.
I know, he still stands near the swing,
And doesn't find me,
He looks for our laughter, I know.
Your voice, the spell,
That I always woke up for.
Today, you don't wake me up,
To collect the fallen night jasmines.
Fallen here it is, my fragile life.
Don't try to collect it dear,
Not everything can be recollected,
And can be placed back at place.
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 4:31 PM UTC
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.
When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.
If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.
But most people don’t see it.
Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.
The poet lives in two different worlds.
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC
I remember the evening
that we sat clinging
to paper cups
of coffee gone cold
over secrets spilled and memories told
two bodies cursed
with hearts grown old
behind your eyes
I found new worlds
A winding road stretched out for miles
to a small cafe at the end of the isle
Sweet pastries filled the mouths
of those who sat beside us
and stayed for a while.
How the hours went by,
people just passing through
The descending sun ending
a forever with you.
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 7:32 AM UTC