he left something
in me,
planted like a little seed
in my chaotic mind.
it was not his
physical being,
flesh nor his blood.
not his well formed
sentences
with his lying
beautiful lips.
it was the sadness
that hit me a couple
of minutes every day,
it was in every
brushstroke on my
acrylic painting,
and in every
heartbeat that
he would forever
be stuck inside.
Jul 31, 2019
Jul 31, 2019 at 6:36 PM UTC
if the depth of my
soul would be my only map
directing me in this life,
I would be like an eagle -
frustratingly desperate to
have the ability
and freedom
to fly
between
mountains
and
forests
and
seas
no destination
no expectations
no looking back
just the little body
and
enormous wings
collaborating
almost mechanically
with my
impulsive mind.
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 6:15 PM UTC
her hair is the waves
her scent is the salt
her eyes are the color
her body is the flow and
her mind is the deepness.
She is your force,
your first thought in the morning
and the last one before you fall asleep
but if you dive to deep
you will dance with the waves,
swallow to much salt,
get blinded by the blueness,
get stuck in the flow
and drown in the deepness.
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 1:55 PM UTC
barefeet on my cold floors
in a white lace kimono
a french hair clip adorns my hair
red lips
and red wine
dancing to some
60's jazz music
thinking about your hand
on my head
and your eyes glimmering
in mine
and your frustration
about the whole situation
think - if you were here
with me
dancing
please
blur out my
red lips
and
replace your
fingers with
that hair clip
and
never
ever
let go
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 2:41 PM UTC
she was like magic,
made him terrified.
her sky-colored eyes
could take away
all of his self control.
but he had to kiss her
soft cotton lips
and put his hands
on her rosy cheeks.
he felt how
her tears let go
from her damp sad eyes
and the only thing
bigger than
his stupid, extreme love
for her
was the salty bittersweet taste
from her tears
that was dancing like ballet
in his enchanted mouth.
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 11:49 AM UTC
I was that
butterfly
you could have
caught with your
bare hands,
caress every part
of my wings
with your
rough fingers.
now I fly
thousands of
miles above you,
avoiding
your hands
forever
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 12:10 PM UTC
you promised
we would
meet each other
one day.
we would go
crab fishing
and drink some wine,
looking at the sunset
a little bit drunk
on the sandy beach.
smelling the salty air.
it was just empty words.
meant everything to me,
and nothing for you.
I am just a bunch
of flowers you
got tired of
watering.
hanged me on your
wall, my flower soul
dried like a desert.
dead from all the promises
you made.
beautiful but forgotten.
and it was so
simple for you
to just buy a
new bunch
of flowers.
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 11:45 AM UTC
this girl,
she lives for details. for beautiful, extraordinary things.
she would never drink tea from a paper mug, no, that would feel so
wrong. the porcelain with tiny painted flowers does the half of it.
she always take the longer, but way more beautiful way home. driving her red little mini cooper with the window down, holding her hand out in the spring, soon summer air. closing her eyes for short seconds, feeling the air softly touching her eyelids.
she photographs everything. maybe because the small things in life makes her the happiest. and because she knows how easy it is to forget those small things.
she lies about her own feelings, for other peoples sake, and of course her own. because lying is a lot easier than telling the truth sometimes.
and she does not have the ability to hurt people, and that is maybe her strength, but also her biggest weakness. cause somewhere deep down she knows she hurts herself the most.
she loves as deep as the sea. she has so much love in her - she often explodes. she loves creatures so easily, it sometimes scares her. and almost always hurts her. because it seems a few really love her back.
she does not have the patience to wait, if she wants something, she will get it. she is
all in
or
all out.
she is very black and white.
but still so incredibly colorful.
maybe cause she has realized - choosing to love the thousands of small, ordinary, accessible things in life is actually the simplest way to her journey of happiness. and what a colorful journey it will be.
letting all those little details, create
art.
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 7:42 PM UTC
❝she preferred
having her tea sitting
on her favorite spot -
on a stone in the most
precious glade.
gazing over
the magical
little lake.
trees hanging
like a frame
to her view,
sunlight glimpses
through the
dense leaves.
dragonflies dancing
in a waltz
around her.
she loved those
water lilies
making the
green-colored
lake looking
like the most
tremendous
painting hanging
on that castle wall.
they made her think
of you.
how you
make her
sometimes
very-dark-world
so bright.
it seemed to her
like
water lilies
and
you had
the same power -
to make something
so dull
feel so
terribly alive.❞
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 7:11 AM UTC
❝ the odd girl
with long dark hair
and blue eyes,
was as always,
sitting there on that
moss green worn
park bench,
under that enormous
old oak tree,
filling the world
with all its
chlorophyll
green leaves.
her eyes deepened
in the sea
of peach-colored peony petals
surrounding her.
listening to all the
little birds singing
lullabies
for her.
observing the newborn
butterflies trying their wings
for the first time.
drinking her
strawberry green tea.
thinking of you.
your messy hair,
your
soft-like-summer-rain
voice.
your old-fashioned soul.
because you are
as magical,
unrealistic,
fantastic
as this.
you are
the one tiny
little piece
missing in
her → right now ←
beautiful fantastic. ❞
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 7:31 AM UTC