I can hear you play the first songs
he taught you whilst I write this letter.
Because I cannot bear it anymore.
I have to tell who made you sell
to stay alive.

I strive to lead a better life
to be a better husband to my wife.
As I buried the writings with their mates,
I cried.

My reasoning states
that I never lied.

Why did I drive a car that day?
And you must never hear me say
that I  used to drive a cab for money.
Even once, that moment, less sunny.
I slipped, derailed and was the origin of hurt.

His cane was useless after that.
And I drove all night to hush
my means. Never did I think I'd rush
away from such occurrings.

Sometimes when you're sad
I can hear you sneak.
You return to what you had
and your peak is what you seek.

A tear slips, escapes and drips
on your wooden harp.
The pain is sharp and brown
like your eyebrows when you frown
even though you're wearing your fifth gown.

And you're back but lost.
You lost connection to what you were,
not who, because the change
was slightly saying that all
you did was playing to wash
away the loss.

The strings or lines could have been bars,
the accident caused wars
in your identity.

How you gently caress
each string
in your only dress
under his wing.

I've stopped working,
caring.
Failure is always lurking,
daring
what I never could.

My center, made of wood,
when burns
never returns.
You're left with ashes.

Your eyelashes,
your fingers,
all created lingers
and I never know for sure.

I guess that's how you lure
one man or another,
one of them being me,
as I see, you could be
the mother, bearing.

So I can revive caring
as an endless motion
in my wooden guts, my core.
You, bearing, three or four
as the door shuts
and you leave your instrument
behind.

My body feels clammy and I feel
my fingers, ears and nose kneel
before the king of snow and cold.
I envy those who have someone to hold
when days are less long,
and I am less strong,
less capable of defending,
when she is ending
sanity
for me.

Bashing the walls never saved her,
she never got out and I got used
to the screaming.

The room, opposite of frigid, steaming.
It abused insiders, visitors and people seeming
touched, by the history it carried.

It buries more than most can handle.
But a place does not feel pity,
you can not blame the city.

The pressure of a chance at being blind after
makes the ability of dreaming so
much dafter.

What has gotten in will hardly leave
whatever it is that you receive,
it will never suffice.

Does her smile cause yours
every wake moment. Once you fantasized
about the squeaking doors,
replaced.

I project to you a vision
once in your life, unique decision,
to make it happen.

I got you something for your
birthday, nothing much or
nothing fancy. Though I did
not dare to give it, because mid-

transporting something occurred
that, despite my former motivation,
formed some kind of hesitation
which strangely, harshly stirred

my view and vision on my goals.
I never notice what actually controls
a change of mind so out of the blue.
What could be this recurring cue?

It got through, I understand, I can
not hand because you want a man.

I dropped my ice cream cone today.
It made me realise that I stray.
Life is boring without the glue
that mends a feeling to all new.

A kid could scream a mother crazy.
But is it better than him being lazy?
And I should practice timing more,
being one of the few that I don't bore.

The drop of a can in a machine,
or of it on your phone's screen,
depresses on a different level
those who seek the purest revel.

In silence when the movie ends,
in the joy when that glue mends.

I made my girl a dress in white,
what she did, she kept it on all night.
She never took it off again, I'll say
I surely am a lucky man.

I strung around a messy gown,
not even once did I see a frown.
And she loves me, I am sure,
there is more our love can endure.

Starry skies, little white lies,
messy children, open forest,
in the bedding, around the waves,
meetings were restricted, feelings were evicted,
but our love held tight.

God is being generous,
life gave me all I wished for,
yet I miss one simple thing,
a teacher, to take me under his wing.

And you noticed how I'm happy,
how I'm laughing all the time.
But did it ever cross your mind
that I'm just being kind?

All given will be taken,
all earned is undecided.
All I know is that we're
all devided.

She wanders, all day,
she roams and walks and strays.
She browses, loses interest,
yet she does not give up.

Some would lose their temper,
others feel uneasy. How can she
stay so natural, breezy.

I swear I wasn't staring,
I tried to restrain.
Honestly, but you know
how I react to smiles,
as beautiful as yours.

Snapping, bopping her lips
with her precious fingertips.
Blushing when she notices
that I noticed she
was different.

I smile, she giggles, roughly
scanning other presences,
to spot that I
am different.

Later on she lost attention
harshly breaking tension
with her unsure eyes.

She confronted me
with reality.

Escalate,
derived from mountain tops
turning down precalculated flops
being true all of a sudden
releases all your fears at once,
and now you have to choose,
what will you do first
how deep is this one hidden under sea level
enough to quench your thirst,
finish

Connected by their names, loved
by their remarkable frames.
Frames covering their face and
thought.

For more than one have I fought
to notice that this sum of parts
cannot be defined on charts.

Unable to express, dysfunctional mess,
like home, where things are weird,
but just the way you like it.

Like home, like jungle puzzles,
my love for one, wolves with muzzles.

It's not the right term, I know.
I do because it will never go,
not for now at least. I'm not sure
how much longer it will endure.

But I'm guessing forever, as mean
lessons taught me to stay keen,
only to be erased by new experience,
as every one brings closer to brilliance.

Out in the open with our beliefs,
in the middle of an exam wearing
nothing more than old, stained briefs
and everyone stopped caring.

About brilliance, about beliefs, about mistakes,
when inside acceptance awakes.

I need to buy
soft but steady
I'm not ready
to tell the salesman what I want
to make an order
to answer the man in the recorder.

I took for granted, granted that I was not aware,
appearing obsessed with such kind of flair
that I did not even dare
to say
who I really am.

She walks, straight
towards my door. She grips
the handle, it's too late,
if this is fate, if this is a poor
projection of a tight connection.
I'm not sure. Never was I afraid
to lure. But it comes too close.

My ear pressed against it, my nose
caressed the glass windows, and I listened.
Never did I listen. I am distracted.

Two signs deciding the direction,
with one a subtle, strong connection,
the other is a question mark, both
roads seem so perfect. And you loath
making a choice.

But the choice will make itself in time,
you see, when plants are trampled, lines
of death, you assume your pick is solid
when the one you didn't take was squalid.

Stop assuming ****.

A path lighted, smoothly, the other,
dimly lit, with children of our mother
earth, green and flashy colours,
but one of both was wrecked by strollers.

What do I know, what I can see.
What do I want, man, all I can see.
I want to go, I want to be, wherever,
whatever. I'll never get there, though.

Not like this.

Not knowing made me anxious
made me prudent
carefully made me stop
brake for taking a break
for my own mind's sake
I crop
for health with stealth
It forbade me to
froze me, paralyzed, a ghost
It made me lose it, almost
though I never really won,
still I never lost
not knowing

Trusting your eyes or ears,
being captivated by a sum of fears,
not the perfect path of perception.
The answer might cause you perplexion.

Enjoy being naive,
only when you feel secure.
Because if only then you do believe,
you adapt to anything unsure.

Why do we hope when we should do?
Because, we are afraid, I'm telling you,
scared of growing up, not too happy with
time running out, with the future, like the
words that leave our mouth, time cannot be
reversed, time is a thing, to help us measure, cursed.

You let me scream, silently,
when I am not allowed to be so loud.

A portal to my inner sanctum,
every word closer to catharsis,
every letter less unsure of who I am.

A sentence is enough to give me shivers
when it's late, I'm tired and I need someone
to talk to.

Keep me sane, keep me going
whenever there is nothing left to gain,
hold my hand, caress my hair,
tell me to shush when I feel the need to swear.

Embrace me when I'm cold, when I
need someone to hold, at night
when I'm losing light, frightened
by a veil of darkness, covering me.

Cover me like my blanket on
a cold december night, in snow,
in may, when it's really time to go,
stay with me, hold my hand, don't refrain,
keep me going, keep me sane.

We are not good people, I
don't know why
I never showed up or you
say the opposite you do.

It's like being outside and seeing
birds fly, but not being jealous
anymore. It bit me, struck me, hit me
I don't need to float around.
I'll stay right here, on the ground.
A little closer to the core.

The conversation is different
I would have told you anything,
some of the words, they sting
you seem more indifferent

You did this.

The face, it feels like home, tossing
eyes, gazing through the room,
connecting visions, wire crossing.

I saw you first, before others cared or noticed.

As if, one moment and the next,
as if you zoom in and all else fades
as if you consume my field of view, my eyes.
A part of me, small but somewhere, slowly dies,
slowly decides, it is not needed any
more.

My guard down, you won me with your stare
I am no longer able to not care.
One does not compare, when all he sees is all he wants.
A deeper kind of illumination
almost within, ways of temptation.
And the rest is background information.

To make a change, engage.
To make you feel secure in whatever that you wage.

I vow to tell and speak instead of hide and seek.
To love and to forget whenever you let
me down, I vow to always be a clown.
I vow to be a kid and playful if I can.
I vow my vows are too much for me to handle,
but I vow I'll try to keep even if I don't know how.

I vow to be the better man.

Kick me, push me, make me cry,
I deserve a special ******* way to die.
For what I have done, what I have sinned.
The one thing that I do deserve.

The in between, step ladders, a door
without a mat, like saying you're not
welcome in my home or in my life,
poor you, succeeding anything you strive.

Struck, by lightning as they say,
we all have experienced something that
changed us in a way. They have trauma's
they have fears, to think I brought you only tears.
They have dangers in their past
important lives, or lovers that did not last.

I had you.

Orange and green were melting
together, seen almost as a pelting
of connections, flooding like
paint, mixing, touching, unlike

what green had thought,
two colours already made of
combinations, don't blend
don't spend
time
when orange has chosen
to follow instead of make
her own
way

A meadow but less soothing,
a mother but less rooting,
a lover but less passionate,
a wedding but less fashioned.

Deep pink asian flowers,
almost purple, contrast showers
of a mass so captivating,
smell creating, eye baiting,
can you feel their warmth inside you,
do you know for sure you love her,
because you would, after all,
after this, you should.

She is like a well known city,
a mountain river, shivergiving pretty.
When words savour on those lips
my ears go blind as my tongue trips
and fails to explain how everytime she sips
on wine, coloured like her fingertips
when cold, she makes me gritty, fearless
of all else, except to tell her that, as my
word melts before her eyes, beauty is
a cruel disguise for guys less wise,
like me.

I don't know for real
And how, why, I can't even
what is this I feel?

Over a thousand questions float.
But I'm too high-and-mighty
to search and ask for the light he
lost. I know some answers, quote:
"You are not who I thought you were,
a dissapointing wimp, not more than mere
explaining words around the bush."

Hush, my darling, why cry over
something you thought would be better too.

Once surrounded, slowly fading
I was once the center now I am
the edge.

In times of empty days, in which
you find too much space,
so much it haunts you.

Talk about, adress your long lost
friend and speak and tell and pronounce
the words: I love you.

Before you fade, before you turn into
me. The last thing I sometimes want to be.

The core turned darker, crumbling
away, rotten decay, turned bumbling
by delay, started tumbling, started
falling, fallen, stopped
working.

Water reaches places, fire just can't,
to work poorly, to fail, to scant.
Replace the inner parts, at least
try to revive this metal fleshy beast.

If green is gone and brown has come,
you know you've stayed too long.
If your legs are flickering, turning numb,
you know it's time for a different song.

Dear,
You crave telling what you did
because you craved doing one thing
wrong. Keeping it locked and off the grid.
Your voice is silent, your face does sing,
it shows to those who know you
that you know who
is hurt.
I too
expose the meanings of a flirt.

I am surrounded by listeners,
but fearing the response,
surrounded by a massive crowd
minus the ones who are allowed
to hear whatever happened to you,
my dear.

I donated my pride to a greater cause,
I gave away some honour to forget the loss
I won though, but lost integrity, nobility,
Selfish and not, now I crave invisibility.

By the long and well-filled days
by the muddy disconnecting ways
at stars, at waves, at wind, blowing
at children, unaware of growing.

Days go by unnoticed, the distance
is not our enemy, it's fear itself who
grips the lie we call decisions.

Only if you make my insides rot
and I die from therein out, you'll
know for sure to miss me.

I'm not sure whether it will wither
in this weather, or live in our love.

Deeply, to regret or care, or pray
for the mere sight and touch, hers.

I blush, she always does, it seems.
If this is love, if not, I know it means a lot.

Uncertainty in distance, a long way.
Do I even dare to tell or say, it hurts,
to stay away.