Over Your body the clouds go
High, high and icily
And a little flat, as if they

Floated on a glass that was invisible.
Unlike swans,
Having no reflections;

Unlike You,
With no strings attached.
All cool, all blue. Unlike You

You, there on Your back,
Eyes to the sky.
The spider-man have caught You.

Winding and twining their petty fetters,
Their bribes-
So many silks.

How they hate You.
They conserve in the valley of Your fingers, they are inchworms.
They would have You sleep in their cabinets,

This toe, and that toe, a relic.
Step off!
Step off seven leagues, like those distances

That revolve in Crivelli, untouchable.
Let this eye be an eagle
The shadow of this lip, an abyss.

~ Sylvia Plath

This is going to be hard,
She turned to me and said, in the dark,
And now my hands smell like Christopher.

I can’t go home, and it hurts to stay,
I wake every day just to pretend and play
And now my hands smell like Christopher.

I feel trapped by some people who love me,
And those who I love, hurt me,
And now my hands smell like Christopher.

I feel ashamed, for I can’t cope with pressure
But how could I live, if I cannot stress her?
And now my hands smell like Christopher.

I hold onto things which I should let go of,
Memories, letters, pink palms and photos,
And now my hands smell like Christopher.

I’m so happy that the rain had stopped,
My hands got so tired of holding the umbrella.

While I should have just let the rain come.

It used to be a Sunday,
Now it is a Monday,
The colors had changed too,
From orange to green,
The numbers from two to four,
Lost One on the go,
He fled as well,
Now twice the pain,
Soccer ball under the table,
No one there to play with it.

No arranged seats,
On old, gray sofas,
I won't hear your stories,
Your empty seats in every room,
All the things I can't ask you,
Thinking if you wonder too,
On lonely nights when it's so cold,
If she ever loved me too?
I think I was just there to listen,
Murdered by the wisest killer.

Your voice in my head,
Me doing nothing,
And waiting, always late,
When it came to timing,
It doesn't matter now,
As you'll be gone,
And you won't come back,
You don't even love me back,
And it's been too long,
For me to not move on.

But I'll keep the picture,
It's in my drawer,
My friends tell me I'm such a dreamer,
For thinking we'll be fine again,
But I know we'll never meet again,
So I get to hide my secret,
You were such a dear friend,
Your words so sweet,
When I felt so down,
I wish I could've called you mine.

It’s two past midnight and I sit in my orange place,
The tiniest that I call home,
I share a bathroom.
In this little town, it’s not my own
But that is the beauty in it
That I got to share it with you
Even if at times I didn’t even know.
I walked those streets all alone
And I still do
But now in a different way
Since now you are gone
For good
And I can let go
I have to let go
Finally(?)

I won't forget how it started,
Us looking for faith,
Coming from you all the words,
I was too afraid to say,

I won't forget how it went on,
Same old gray couch,
Touching elbows,
Never too close

And it's such jubilation
With flying, pointing arrows,
Late night talks, your hundred tales,
You left me in an empty maze

Sunday church,
The cheat card games,
As I think back now,
It feels unreal

So I drink my tea,
Let You laugh at me,
And on one summer Sunday eve,
I turn around to watch you leave.

If You could paint me,
You would paint me blue.

The Laughing Man,
I call you that,
A mix of orange, light brown led,

You don't like us,
You frighten me,
Alone, young, it's so lonely,

And as I watched you,
Beer in hand, big, smiley face,
I knew you were a severe case,

I might know your story,
Left behind,
I won't ever see you cry,

Then keep your distance,
Laughing Man,
Show them that you never care,

You are fine and life is cool,
But I won't ever be your fool,
I see past pretended grins,
Empty stares and uptight chins.

I'm drawn to words,
Tell me something beautiful.