while we laid on the cold floor, you cradled
my head against your chest. i heard your pulse
swaying to the tempo of the ballad
playing on the radio. my hands throbbed like
the bumblebee trapped in the room, anxious
from the dissonance of our frequencies.
i watched it race around for attention
and understood: i want to be adored
or despised, never ignored the way you
didn't notice the bug or my buzzing heart.
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 1:29 PM UTC
the lukewarm sun will waltz through cotton-made
and fading mountains. grey with rage and ache,
our dunes will jolt, with force they rattle quick.
the hills diffuse from time to time in crumbs
and grant our star permissions, parcels, moles
on skin to gleam upon and blaze across.
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 1:27 PM UTC
the thought of you has ripened into an
intermittent apparition: the one
roaming inattentive minds in the form
of plastic reminders with no acute
edges – spellbound by nostalgic potions
dripping from a wandering mind when the
train takes longer than foreseen; leg bouncing
up, down, restless, a foul jack-in-the-box
spewing your worn out words, his cage shifting
from coffin to treasure chest with each stop.
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 1:24 PM UTC
i found blushed flowers inside crevices.
petals of poignant hues mimicking dusk,
stained by footsteps on the alley we roamed.
cigarette butts, exuding their last gasps,
float in puddles from graveled clouds that weep.
quarreling with tides, they refuse to drown.
they won’t sink this may, like i did last spring,
in a pool of lilac forget-me-nots.
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 1:23 PM UTC
dragging old shoes through the sun-kissed pavement,
dodging every fissure that scars its tar,
a wrinkled spirit urges to arise
from the bottom of a buried suitcase.
the wordsmith who spat smooth prose into ears
to calm the tidal waves marring dense chests,
abandoned the rib cage he resided
but won't stop pounding on doors for rescue.
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 1:20 PM UTC
you dreamt of him last night.
you can't remember what he said
but his mouth whispered poetry
and his hands made a screenplay.
he wrote a note on a napkin
with a blue ballpoint pen,
you can't recall what it read
but such a phrase could start a novel.
you crumpled the paper towel in your hand with rage,
he ran back into your mind and lit a fire in your heart
causing your pulse to waltz and hum
to the song that played.
you dreamt of him once more
for words he said the last time you met his eyes.
you were drunk, of course
and a sentence can become a masterpiece in the blink of an eye.
draining half a bottle of cheap *****
merged with sour lemonade and stale diet coke
won't stop you from making similes between running your fingers through his hair
and the bubbling sensation of a fizzy drink.
i know you tried coffee and it made your hands tremble
with a wariness that obliged them to write,
and you compared caffeine to his touch
and the colour of coffee to the specks in his eyes.
i also know cigarettes didn't work,
their bitter taste reminds you of the arrogance in his expression
when he utters your name,
the despise contained in those two words until articulated by his face.
you don't need another drug that inspires metaphors longing to be made.
his scent can't be replaced by twelve glasses of perfumed champagne
and even if caffeine makes your heart beat faster than he ever did
all you see in coffee grounds are his big brown eyes and his chocolate mane.
reeking of cigarettes won't do more than cloud your windpipe and put in mind the burn of your hands intertwined.
no substance will ever overshadow the drug a human being can come to be and no abstinence syndrome will be as dreadful as waking up from a dream.
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 2:05 PM UTC
'estimate: 443.000 people die prematurely from tobacco abuse'
i read from the crumpled cardboard box which holds the rest of the deadly weapons i often oscillate with *****
grey ashes flutter around,
smoke in the atmosphere fades into the fumes of cars,
my eyes water
is it because of fog or cries?
i take a deep, long drag;
my mouth utters an inaudible chuckle,
tears burn my cheeks, i mumble shrieks.
sadness overflows my surroundings,
everything turns blue,
streetlights,
billboards,
faces;
rain floods my shoes.
wrenched in cold and shivering,
i wonder,
how many whom are stuck with the repulsive vice
deeply desire to die prematurely
because of some gloomy eyes.
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
Today the sky decided to resemble you and your mind;
Overwhelming indigo for your iridescent eyes,
how they turn from blue to grey
until they reveal the way you're aligned.
Soothing violet for the depth and majesty of your thoughts,
bright enough to warn you,
yet vulnerable and velvety enough
to ground your knots.
Groundbreaking blush for the colour of your cheeks
and the warmth that evokes from your touch,
ceasing every feeling of cold
one has ever choked on.
Faded orange, for the sun against your skin
and the way you breathe.
How it stings against your spine
and the way your tan chest rises
with every gasp of air that's underneath.
And last, an almost colourless yellow,
worn-out by the vehemence of your craving,
for the light in your eyes when you gaze at what you adore
and the power within your heart's palpitations,
begging you to live life to the core.
How I wish,
when you looked at me it ignited your eyes.
And when you stared,
your eyes would be blue instead of ice.
How I wish,
I could grasp a bit of what unravels in your bewildering mind.
I want to feel your lukewarm touch against my skin;
the cold has latched on to every corner of my being
and I am in need to leave it behind.
I long to graze your sun kissed skin
and for the sun's burn to linger there,
I yearn to even my vague breathing
with your stable gasps of air.
But if you beg me to summarise,
I just wish you would stare.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
I'm in love
with an immensity
I will never seize.
Whereas the sky
is too far
for my mortal arms
to grasp the clouds
and count the stars
from the seas.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 11:00 PM UTC
Tell me how can you fit an entire universe in your eyes.
How can the twinkle of the three hundred billion stars settle down in your smile?
Why do you cry galaxies
and sweat planets?
I'd prefer to have a meteor shower instead of butterflies
fluttering in my stomach.
Every hour,
every mile we roam,
wandering,
admiring the moon
while it follows us to take care of her commune.
For the stars in your eyes,
the asteroids in your stomach,
the whole universe you let out in every one of your chuckles.
You're not just a whole sky,
you're more than galaxies.
And I can't fathom
how someone so astonishing
could fancy a pure mortal.
With no twinkle in her eyes,
no galaxies when she smiles.
Not even a hint of magic,
would make her out of this world.
And the rays of sun
you stand below,
that make you glow beautifully,
would only make her eyes hurt.
For she will never be a child of the sun,
nor daughter of the moon.
Who's love is as impossible as ours.
Now that,
when the sun is alive,
living to its fairest,
the moon would die to let him shine.
And viceversa,
the sun would vanish,
for every one of the moons sparks
in a speck of time.
So you gleam.
Full of universes.
Full of light.
And she glooms.
Full of space.
Full of darkness.
Craving you,
seeking for your stars.
But she'd never forgive herself
if she dimmed your constellations,
or wiped away your planets.
Not even steal a single meteor from your stomach.
She'd rather turn away
than drag you to the void.
For she knows,
the sun would never feel the same anymore.
Your soul from outer space
would rot into a pit,
and she wouldn't scrape away your happiness,
not even for meteors in her stomach.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC